Remember the Name
by EvilFuzzy9
Summary: Over the course of his life, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore has had many ideas that toed the line between brilliance and lunacy. That was his thing. But hiring Team Samui and their space case master to help in the fight against the Dark Lord? Well, that goes so far beyond crazy that, with a little effort and a lot of luck, it might just wrap right back around into genius.
1. Ten Percent Luck

**Remember the Name**

A _Naruto _x _Harry Potter_ Crossover

By

EvilFuzzy9

* * *

**A/N: Why did I do this I just know I am going to regret starting it but dammit it had to be done and why am I typing in such a horrendous run-on sentence I don't know I started and now I can't stop and AAUUUGH**

* * *

_'With power to bring the world to ruin,_

_ We dwell beneath the demon moon._

_ Contest ye not our boundless might,_

_ Or perish beyond the reach of light._

_ And beware the ones who hold us chained_

_ Within their hearts by hatred pained._

_ But if ye walk the six-fold path,_

_ Then fear ye not our primal wrath,_

_ For we were shaped by ancient Sage_

_ To be legacy of bygone age._

_ Sundered from One, we once were Ten, _

_ We Nine who walk the world of men.'_

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts, frowned. This passage, which he had come across in a book of ancient lore, was bothering him. It was a riddle.

Usually, he was quite good at riddles. Why, once in his earlier days, back when he was a spry, adventurous young man of sixty, he had riddled a Sphinx with riddles of such obscurity and complexity that the half-human, half-lion beast had ended up crawling on its belly and begging him to stop.

But this particular riddle had him completely stumped.

No matter how he interpreted the words, no matter how many times he reread it, he could think of nothing that could be the answer to this riddle. And there were very few things in the world of which he did not have at least a little knowledge.

Frowning to himself, Dumbledore set solving the riddle aside for later and returned his attention to the book which he had been reading through before he had stumbled across the puzzler in question.

It was actually a very interesting read. It held all kinds of esoteric knowledge that most wizards were entirely ignorant of, including a number of curious diagrams and what could only be described as hermetic arrays, though they did not seem to adhere to any discipline he knew of. The fact that, if what he understood of the text was accurate, there was an _entire field _of specifically wandless magic that had been completely forgotten by the wizarding world as a whole only increased his interest. No matter how old and gray he grew, there were very few things Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore enjoyed more than the acquisition of new knowledge. He loved learning as much as he loved teaching, and this _ninjutsu_ intrigued him considerably.

Continuing on, he eventually came across a passage describing the origins of this forgotten magical discipline. And his eyebrows rose up, _up_, _up_ and _away _as he realized that he had found the answer to the riddle without even trying.

_Bijū_... Tailed-beasts. Nine in total, creatures of incomprehensibly immense magical power, formed from the divided life force of an even greater and more terrible creature. A creature with ten tails.

_'Sundered from One, we once were Ten, _

_ We Nine who walk the world of men.'_

Dumbledore couldn't help it. He laughed.

_Just maybe..._

The seeds of an idea taking root in his mind, Albus began to plot.

**TTFN and R&R!**


	2. Twenty Percent Skill

**Remember the Name**

A _Naruto _x _Harry Potter_ Crossover

By

EvilFuzzy9

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**A/N: Ye Lord, I'm baffled at how quickly that first chapter got reviewed and put on story alerts. It was just something I churned out after work for the heck of it, but clearly you guys think it's something worth keeping an eye on.**

**On the romanization of certain names, for the characters with letter names I'm going to be using **_**Naruto Shippuden Ultimate Ninja Impact **_**as a reference because it's the only thing I have with an official English spelling of their names. So A/Ei is going to be Ay, C/Shi is going to be Cee, J/Jei is going to be Jay, and so on and so forth. And as for the ranks of Team Samui, I'm going to go ahead and assume that they are jōnin because why not. **

**Also, I realized that there may be some concerns about my characterization of Dumbledore, as raised by actionliker who left a review saying:**

_'wow, so is dumbledore evil in this story?'_

**So to address those concerns, I will quote my response to actionliker.**

_'What? Oh, no, of course not! I've never really much like the whole evil!Dumbledore thing. It's been done to death, and besides that I've always thought of him as a good guy, even after the revelations in Deathly Hallows. ...Of course, this is coming from someone who thinks Danz__ō was a decent fellow with a good head on his shoulders, so my idea of what constitutes a "good guy" might not completely align with that of the majority of the fandom. XP_

_But anyways, just because Dumbledore is prone to plotting doesn't mean he's some sort of supervillain. (Haha, oh god, the mental image I got from that is hilarious and not just a little disturbing)__'_

* * *

In the Village Hidden in the Clouds, a trio of young adult jōnin was wandering along main street in the general direction of the Raikage Tower.

A buxom, pale blonde with turquoise eyes was walking alongside her two teammates. Both had dark skin, but while one, a man with the stick of a lollipop sticking out of his mouth, had pale, almost white hair. The other, a slender woman with a lean musculature, had a head the shade of Uzumaki red, and striking yellow eyes.

The two were arguing, though based on their comrade's nonchalance, this was not an unusual occurrence. ...Although, actually, it wouldn't be quite accurate to say that the _two_ were arguing. It would perhaps be closer to the truth to say that the redhead was berating her male teammate, who for his part looked exceedingly wary of doing anything to set the temperamental woman off any further than she already was.

"I still can't believe you, Omoi, you moron!" the redhead shouted, punching the white-haired shinobi on the shoulder. "You slowpoke worrywart! If you hadn't hung back like a coward, we could've finished those guys off and gotten back _yesterday!_"

Omoi, wincing and rubbing his shoulder where his teammate hit it, replied with a subdued, "But, Karui, we had no idea of their numbers or strength. And besides that, our assignment was covert ops, not a combat mission," he admonished, taking the sucker out of his mouth. "If you hadn't rushed in like a maniac, Samui would've been able to slip right in and steal the document with zero trouble, and we would've been back the day _before_ yesterday."

Karui punched him in the face. "Idiot!" she snarled, "I don't care about anything like that! Covert ops or not, if we wind up in a fight, you should be a man and charge in to protect your two beautiful teammates!"

She affected a coy, girlish pose that was as fake as a three dollar bill. "After all, if anything happened to our cute faces, I don't know what we'd do~" she tittered.

"Your face isn't _'cute',_" Omoi deadpanned.

This elicited another punch to the face.

From the shadows, two figures watched the trio walk into the distance, Omoi and Karui bickering the whole way.

The skinnier figure, a gangly, greasy-haired man with a nose like a hawk's beak, who was garbed in a flowing black kimono, could not help but sneer.

"_These_ are the 'elite ninja' who are supposed to come to our aid?" he drawled in slightly accented Japanese, clearly unimpressed. "I've seen _twelve year olds_ with better discipline."

The broader, larger figure, a black man with sunglasses and a neatly trimmed white goatee, who was dressed in a standard Cloud flak vest and wearing a Cloud forehead protector with white cloth, waved the other man's comments off with practiced ease.

"Hey, you fool, you tool. Don't underestimate their strength, or you might regret~ They don't look like much, but they're your best bet~" he rapped, causing the other man to grimace.

"_That's what I was afraid of,_" the man muttered under his breath in English.

**TTFN and R&R!**


	3. 15 Percent Concentrated Power of Will

**Remember the Name**

A _Naruto _x _Harry Potter_ Crossover

By

EvilFuzzy9

"A man cannot be comfortable without his own approval."

- Mark Twain

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**A/N: I mentioned _Naruto Shippuden Ultimate Ninja Impact_ in the author's note for the previous chapter, so I figured I'd mention that, on a particular mission in story mode where Killer Bee (Version 2 Mode) fights Kisame, I managed to defeat 1,027 enemies in succession. Which was honestly just a matter of patiently mashing attack and running into spawned enemies. That isn't to say it's not fun, however. Over the couple of weeks I've had the game, I've somehow managed to clock in over ninety hours on it.**

* * *

Severus Snape was many things. Spy, genius, duelist, poisoner, he had been there, done that, and gotten that T-shirt. But, above all else, he was a potions master.

He had traveled the world over, and seen all kinds of people who held the secrets to all sorts of tinctures and toxins. He was a master of his craft, and truly passionate about his work. He could brew anything from amortentia to polyjuice with little to no difficulty, and even his idle experimentation had in many ways revolutionized the field of potion-making in wizarding Britain.

In short, Severus Snape knew just about everything there was to know about bottling fame, brewing glory, and stoppering death. So, surely, one would think that it would only be logical for such a _brilliant_ man to pass on his knowledge to future generations as teacher. And this would be true, save for one fatal flaw.

Snape hated children. He **loathed** them. From disrespectful dunderheads to simpering sycophantic know-it-alls, he despised the nasty little creatures. They were all just a pack of sniffling, diseased, snot-nosed gremlings dripping their vile nasal ichor into highly volatile mixtures without a second thought and brainless brats who couldn't tell the difference between pepper-up potion and the draught of living death if their lives depended on it.

Like any genius, Snape had little patience for incompetence. And, again, like any genius, his idea of "competence" was a _great deal_ more stringent than that of the average wizard. His standards were far higher than even the brightest could hope to meet, and so he considered every last one of his students imbeciles.

Even the Slytherins.

_Especially_ the Slytherins.

Don't get him wrong, he was all for house pride, and if he clearly favored Slytherin when doling out points, well, that was his merely prerogative at the Head of House. But in his personal opinion, the Sorting Hat was CLEARLY focusing more on _ambition_ than on _cunning_ when it sorted the "ickle firsties" into their houses at the beginning of each year.

So sometimes, Snape could not help but think that someone up there must _really _hate him. Probably because of the whole Death Eater thing from when he was younger, honestly.

He hated children. He also hated adults who ACTED like children.

Which mean that, when he first met up with the man he was supposed to contact with Dumbledore's proposal, he quickly lost any illusions of possibly finding a kindred spirit among these "shinobi".

It was clear to him that the coming year was not going to be pleasant.

* * *

"Haaaah? Whaddya mean, a new mission? We haven't even been back an hour, sensei!" Karui snapped at the man she so greatly admired and respected.

Bee shrugged. "Not my problem, you fools, you tools. This guy made an offer I couldn't refuse. A year-long vacation, it'll be a leisure cruise."

Samui, who had been standing to the back of the group, cocked an eyebrow. "A vacation...?" she said, sounding skeptical.

Omoi, standing a little between her and Karui, sighed. "You don't mean..."

Karui, standing right in front of her sensei and the gangly, unpleasant-looking specter of a man who stood beside him, pointed her index finger accusingly at the guardian of the Cloud and container of the Eight-Tails, "This is just an excuse for you to skip out of the village and slack off!"

Bee grinned. "To-may-toe, to-mah-toe, maybe that's so, but I still say we go, yo."

Samui, sensing that Karui was likely about to snap and punch Killer Bee, decided to step in and keep the other girl from breaking her fist on the man. "Well, if it's been signed off by the Lord Raikage, then I see no reason to turn it down, correct?" she said diplomatically, sending her teacher and mentor an inquiring glance.

"No need to fear, my cute little minions, Snape here met Brother and showed him the missions," he rapped, walking past his former students and heading towards the village gate, shortly followed by the man who was apparently called Snape–a peculiar name, even in the Land of Lightning.

Team Samui stared after them.

"But we just got back!" Karui protested.

"Yeah!" Omoi said with a nod. "We haven't even had a chance to replace our supplies. I'm all outta shuriken, and I don't think there's a soldier pill between us!"

"Too bad, don't bother, ain't got no time," Killer Bee replied over his shoulder without missing a beat. "Be quick and sharp, just like my rhyme!"

To their credit, it only took Team Samui a fraction of a second to change directions and follow their mentor out the gates.

**TTFN and R&R!**


	4. Five Percent Pleasure

**Remember the Name**

A _Naruto _x _Harry Potter_ Crossover

By

EvilFuzzy9

* * *

**A/N: Let me just preface this chapter by saying that I have not read the actual Harry Potter books in a while, so my memory of some things is a little spotty. Also, this chapter is a little short, but if it makes you feel any better I've already written a decent bit of the next chapter, and that one is shaping up to be a bit on the long side (by the standard of the chapters of this fic).  
**

* * *

Ay eyed the four shinobi assembled before him. They were some of the finest ninja in the village, and they would soon be away on a year-long assignment to a far-off land.

These four, he mused, would be the first Cloud shinobi to interact with the English-speaking people of the west in decades, and the first _ever _to do so on an official misson. Thus, they would need to represent the village's best and brightest.

As he faced the four, an unusually solemn expression on his face, Ay addressed them. "Cee, Darui, Motoi, Yugito," he began, "You four have been chosen for a mission of the utmost importance to the village. If you succeed, it will no doubt secure us some very valuable allies among the people of the West. Each of you bears the distinction of being counted among the elite of the Hidden Cloud. You are some of the strongest shinobi in the village. I have no doubt you will succeed."

The speech finished, he turned to his secretary and Mabui and addressed her. "Bring in Snape," he commanded.

Mabui frowned. "I'm sorry sir, but I can't do that..." She bit her lip nervously before continuing. "Snape-san left the tower with Lord Bee as soon as you approved the mission."

The Fourth Raikage's eyes bugged out of his head at this news. He gnashed his teeth and pounded his fist on his desk, leaving a sizable indent in its surface.

He was positively _livid_.

"_**BEEEEEEEEEEEE!**_"

* * *

On the other side of the world, outside a small village in Scotland where the peaceful darkness of night still held sway, the Raikage's tag-team partner and adopted brother felt a chill run down his spine as he heard the faint sound of a very familiar roar.

"Yo, guys, did you just hear something?" he asked his trio of adorable former pupils, who were currently busy vomiting into an unfortunate bush while Snape looked on in obvious disgust.

When none of them answered, seeing as how they were currently preoccupied with emptying their stomachs, Bee shrugged and turned to Snape. Before the hachibi jinchūriki could voice his question, the potions master cut him off with a terse reply of, "No, I did not."

Stymied but unrelenting, Bee turned inwards. Focusing on his mental landscape, he addressed the Tailed-Beast sealed within him. _'Yo! Eight-Tails, my boy, you hear anything?'_

The Eight-Tails, upon whose head Bee's mental image was currently sitting, said, _**'Yes, Bee, yes I did. And you had best be thankful that the Raikage has no way to reach you presently, considering how much your latest stunt has most likely infuriated him.'**_

Killer Bee took this news in and grinned. _'Oh, alright. I thought I heard something, but I couldn't be sure over all that thumping.'_

The Eight-Tails frowned._** 'Thumping?'**_

Bee nodded. "Yeah, something real big's headed right our way. I can't even imagine how much it's gotta weigh," he commented out loud, getting his students' attention.

Before Team Samui could do anything, however, a booming voice echoed throughout the sleeping little village.

"_I'm jes' big-boned, is all!_"

**TTFN and R&R!**


	5. Fifty Percent Pain

**Remember the Name**

A _Naruto _x _Harry Potter_ Crossover

By

EvilFuzzy9

_"First think of what you want to do, then do what you have to do."_

- Fortune Cookie (Unattributed)

* * *

**A/N: Man, I'd forgotten how easy it was to update when I write short chapters. **

**Also, I apologize in advance for my atrocious rendition of Hagrid's accent, but I couldn't just write his dialogue normally, because I felt like that would be lazy.**

**Also, also, while nowadays I usually try to avoid putting gratuitous Japanese in my fics, what with my merely fragmentary knowledge of it along with matters of linguistic consistency, given the setting of this fic it only makes sense to intersperse the dialogue of Team Samui and Bee with bits of Japanese. Thus, this is probably one of my only present fics where I will disregard my personal rule of "No gratuitous Japanese", if only in specific places. I'll try to get it as accurate as I can, but I can make no promises. So if anyone spots any errors, please let me know. **

* * *

Rubeus Hagrid was a sensitive soul. In spite of his size, or perhaps _because _of it, he was very amiable and kindhearted. He may have looked imposing, but he was just a big old softy at heart.

Indeed, most of the people at Hogwarts who weren't Slytherins–who seemed to enjoy antagonizing the groundskeeper and Care of Magical Creatures teacher on sheer principle–would agree that the totally-NOT-a-half-giant was easily one of the most pleasant and personable people around. Even with his somewhat disturbing fascination with incredibly dangerous and exotic beasts taken into account, Hagrid was about as friendly and likeable as they came.

He was, however, not the brightest of folk, and his unfortunate tendency towards bumbling put together with his fondness for drink and resultant nigh-inability to keep secrets meant that, while he was trusted to be as loyal and steadfast as any member of the Order, he was rarely if ever chosen to handle difficult or sensitive missions when there were others capable of doing them. He was nonetheless eager to please, and willing to do just about anything for Dumbledore's sake. So when the much older and more experienced wizard approached him with what he said was a mission of the utmost importance toward ensuring their success in the coming war, Hagrid had naturally jumped at the opportunity. And when the headmaster had detailed what, exactly, this mission would entail, he had decided to brush up on his Japanese.

It might have come as a surprise to some, but Rubeus Hagrid knew nearly as many different languages as both Dumbledore and Snape combined. It was a natural progression of his fascination with exotic creatures–many of the rarer critters out there were very difficult to find without the help of locals, and said locals were significantly more likely to assist individuals who could speak their language. He had learned Japanese (as well as Chinese, Korean, and a few minor dialects) during a brief period of fascination with some of the more unique beasts of the Orient, and since Dumbledore had informed him the previous week that he would be escorting some people who more than likely only spoke that language, he had decided to brush up on his _nihon-go_.

Now, as said before, Hagrid was a fairly sensitive, emotional individual. And one thing in particular that he was very sensitive about was the secret of his mixed parentage, and the evidence of his mother and father's questionable union that could be seen in his build and stature as plainly as the nose on his face. So when he overheard someone talking in Japanese about how much he must weigh, he naturally got a little defensive.

"I'm jes' big-boned, is all!" he thoughtlessly retorted in English, the sound of his voice echoing through the sleepy village of Hogsmeade.

Then, remembering that the person he was addressing–who was, now that he thought about it, probably one of the people he'd been asked to pick up–most likely couldn't even speak English, he felt like smacking himself on the forehead.

"_Er, I'm sorry about that—_" he started to say in Japanese as he approached the group that was only now coming into view, only to be interrupted by a woman speaking in surprisingly good English.

"Don't apologize," he heard her say firmly as he drew nearer, now able to make out their individual appearances through the gloom of the early hour. "Sensei was rude, and he did you an insult, however unintentional it may have been..."

The blonde–who Hagrid was now close enough to be certain was the one talking–trailed off as she took in the appearance of their guest. Hagrid indulged himself in a quiet chuckle at the looks on their faces. It always was just a little amusing to see how people reacted to meeting him in person for the first time, and this group didn't disappoint on that front.

"Whoa_..._" he heard the white-haired one mumble.

"_Huge..._" the redhead muttered in her native tongue, eliciting a numb nod of assent from the blonde.

"_Incredible... What unbelievable size..._" the blonde whispered, sounding more impressed than intimidated.

Hagrid blushed faintly at the comments from the two undeniably pretty young ladies, before looking over at the ever-sneering Professor Snape and the only one of the foreigners to show no external reaction. Spotting the darkly colored lenses of the beefy man's sunglasses, he frowned.

"How can yeh see wi' those things on when it's so dark out?" he blurted out without thinking, addressing the goatee'd man.

The man, looking up at Hagrid's face, simply grinned and said, "No problem!" in a rather thick accent.

The white haired younger man, who was standing next to the two girls, frowned. "Oy," he said addressing Hagrid, "Do all of you speak English, here?"

"Yeh, more or less," Hagrid replied with a nod.

"_Kusooo..._" the young man groaned under his breath.

Hagrid frowned. "Is there a problem wi' that?"

The blonde shook her head. "Not a problem, per se... It's just that... Well, Omoi and I are more or less fluent in English. But Karui and s_ensei_, on the other hand..." She ducked, dodging a reckless punch from the redhead.

"_Urusai!_" the redhead in question snarled, looking furious as she threw another wild punch, "_Teme ga korosu!_"

Samui rolled her eyes. "_Cool it, Karui, I'm just telling him the truth,_" she drawled in Japanese.

"_Uso da!_" Karui snapped. "_Don't think that just because I don't understand what you're saying, I can't tell when you're insulting me!_"

Omoi, watching the two girls glare daggers at each other, slowly inched towards Bee-sensei, intending to take shelter behind the man.

"Oh geeze..." he muttered worriedly, "Karui's snapped, and now she's gonna kill Samui. Only Samui's really strong, so she'll take Karui with her, and then there'll only be me and sensei, and we'll have to go back home because we won't be able to complete the mission with only half our cell, and Ay-sama will kill me for letting Karui and Samui kill each other, and..."

Bee, overhearing his student's whispered tangent, paled ever so slightly.

The Eight-Tails, being privy to the thoughts that were running through his container's head, snorted.

_**'You're afraid,'**_ he observed. If it had been any other bijū talking to any other jinchūriki, this statement would have most likely been followed by a virulent tirade on mortal cowardice, but Gyūki simply grinned wryly to himself. _**'I don't blame you. Your brother takes too much after his father to be taken lightly, you know.'**_

_'I ain't afraid,'_ Bee retorted. _'I could take Brother any day of the week.' _He paused. _'... I just have the flu; I ain't meek.'_

_**'Yes, well. Whatever the case, you really should step in before those two actually DO kill each other.'**_

Bee didn't reply. Instead, with a flicker of movement, he was suddenly standing between Samui and Karui. The two, seeing that their master had deigned to intervene, instantly froze in place.

"Too roud-o," their teacher said in his thick accent, his arms crossed as he stared the two down without even looking at them. "Show proud-o, _bakayarō, konoyarō._"

Karui looked down as she released the grip she'd had on the handle of her still-sheathed katana, suddenly becoming incredibly fascinated with the pattern of the cobblestone path on which they were standing. Samui was less obvious, but she too looked rather ashamed for having participated in the altercation, however passive her role in it may have been.

Bee grinned. "_There you go, that's better, yo. There's time for fights, but it ain't now, ho._"

Karui twitched. Before Samui could stop her, she had coated her arm in a rudimentary form of the Raikage's _raiton no yoroi_, lightning release armor, and smashed her fist into her teacher's face.

"_Who do you think you're calling a ho, bakayarō, konoyarō?-!_"

**TTFN and R&R!**

* * *

_translation notes:_

_"kuso" - lit., "crap", "feces"; used as a common mild expletive_

_"urusai" - (you're) noisy; often used similarly to "shut up" or "be quiet"_

_"teme ga korosu" - (I'll) kill you; "teme" being a rude or uncouth form of "you", and NOT "bastard", despite what so many Naruto fans may seem to think _

_"uso da" - (that) is a lie_

_"bakayarō/konoyarō" - damned fool, idiot; both are insults with little practical difference in meaning, from what I've been able gather_


	6. And a Hundred Percent Reason

**Remember the Name**

A _Naruto _x _Harry Potter_ Crossover

By

EvilFuzzy9

_"Forget those things that aren't worth remembering."_

- Tim Foley

* * *

**A/N: To rank the current English fluency of the four Kumo ninja, it goes: Samui, who is almost perfectly fluent and has no trouble carrying on conversations, Omoi, who can write and speak English well enough but has some trouble understanding native speakers if they speak too quickly, Bee, who has a barely passable understanding of the language and a noticeably heavy accent, and Karui who doesn't know a bit of the language except what she might have picked up from some attack names.**

**Also, this chapter and the previous one were sorta written one right after the other. And the next chapter, which I've already written part of, has a lot of talking.  
**

* * *

Hagrid nervously eyed the four people he was escorting through the gates onto the Hogwarts grounds. He had only been able to make out a little of what happening in the dark, but from he had seen, he had no doubts in his mind that these people were just as formidable as Dumbledore had made them out to be.

He was warily keeping his distance from the redhead–_Karui_, he reminded himself–who was nursing her fist and muttering darkly under her breath. Not that he was afraid of her, per se. Whatever she done to the big guy with the shades, it hadn't even scratched him. In fact, considering how similar the sparking, glowing light was in appearance to some of the most basic forms of magical manipulation which rarely took any sort of serious study to master, he figured it had just been a simple, harmless parlor trick. Even if it HAD been performed sans wand, which admittedly spoke something of the magical prowess of the caster.

Yes, Hagrid was far from unfamiliar with the concept of wandless spellcasting. While it had never been something that he himself had been able to pull off, he was, as a member of the Hogwarts staff, decently acquainted with some of the finest magical minds to come out of the last few generations, and even Albus Dumbledore himself. He had seen all kinds of nifty charms and spells performed without wands or incantations by all sorts of people, teachers and former students alike.

With all that said, however, he still did not want to risk finding himself at the receiving end of the girl's fiery temper. He was still confused by how, when he had covertly asked Miss Karui's companions why the girl was so quick to lose her temper–considering how she had declared an intent to kill Miss Samui simply because she had suspected the other girl to have been badmouthing her–and if she possibly needed a visit to the hospital wing, Omoi and Samui had simply shook their heads and said _"Whirlpool"_ as if that explained everything.

The fact that Miss Karui had apparently overheard them and shouted _"One-quarter!"_ in response only further muddled the issue for Hagrid, but he simply set it aside for later.

As their motley crew approached the massive oaken doors of Hogwarts castle, Hagrid cast a curious look towards the back of the group, where Snape was sulking and scowling and just generally being his usual surly self. The other teacher had no fondness for him, considering him a bumbling oaf, and Hagrid honestly did not much care the other man either.

Same side or not, Severus Snape was about as pleasant as a gargoyle–or even more so, as in the case of those three pleasantly amiable gargoyles that had been animated by a stray charm from the rowdy group of celebrating students as they had left the castle for summer break the previous week. At least half the staff suspected the Weasley twins, Fred and George, as the most likely culprits, though it was a rather tame trick by the pair's standards, and the other half of the staff didn't care, as the three gargoyles still stayed at their post, even if they did seem rather fond of reenacting skits from something the Muggle Studies teacher had said was called _"The Three Stooges"_.

As the massive wooden doors swung open with no movement from either Hagrid or Snape, Samui, Omoi, and Karui's eyebrows rose as one in interest.

"_Impressive,_" Samui commented dryly under her breath. "_A nice show._"

"_I wonder how they got the doors to swing open on their own..._" Karui murmured, genuinely intrigued by this development.

"_Maybe it's mechanical, and they've got someone out of sight operating the mechanism,_" whispered Omoi.

"_Eh, maybe..._" Samui muttered, eyes narrowing as they walked through the entryway, "_But I didn't hear anything like that. No gears grinding, no chains rattling, __nothing__._"

"_Weird,_" Karui mumbled.

"_No kidding..._" Omoi concurred. "_And now that you mention it, the doors themselves didn't make any noise when they opened up, either. Considering how old they looked, they should have been creaking on their hinges like nothing else._"

"_Maybe it's just for looks..._" Karui suggested. "_Maybe this place is only made to LOOK like it's really old. Or, heck, maybe they've got some sort of silencing seals on that shit, I dunno..._"

"_Yeah, maybe..._"

Eventually, the group reached the entrance to Dumbledore's office. Snape walked up to the gargoyle, ignoring the questioning looks that three of the four shinobi were giving him, and said, "Peanut brittle."

Samui, Karui, and Omoi's eyes widened as they saw the gargoyle spin into the wall to reveal the steps of a spiral staircase winding upwards like some sort of stone escalator. They were initially reluctant to step onto the moving steps, not sure whether or not they could trust them, but when Killer Bee walked past them and stepped on, they decided that it was worth the risk.

In a matter of moments, they were at the top of the staircase, looking at a closed door. They stared at it, uncertain what to do. Bee nearly walked up to the door and opened it right away, but his students held him back, hissing at their sensei to wait for an invitation from their employer, since that was clearly who they had to be meeting in such a secure location.

"_Oh, don't mind me,_" came a voice through the wall speaking in their native language. "_Please, do come in._"

The door swung open, to reveal a man of apparent great age with a long wispy beard of silver, who was dressed in what had to be some of the most garish and colorful ceremonial robes the four had ever seen. Bright blue eyes twinkled at them through half moon spectacles.

"_Ohayō gozaimásu_... _hachibi no jinchūriki._"

**TTFN and R&R!**

* * *

_translation notes:_

_"ohayō gozaimásu" - hello, good morning (polite)_

_"hachibi no jinchūriki" - if you actually need this one explained to you, then you might just be in the wrong fandom XP_


	7. To Remember the Name

**Remember the Name**

A _Naruto _x _Harry Potter_ Crossover

By

EvilFuzzy9

_"If you can't accept losing, you can't win."_

- Vince Lombardi

* * *

**A/N:** **It took me more writing and rewriting to get the first part of this chapter to an acceptable level quality than I'm willing to admit. Also, I did some digging the other day, and I managed to find my copy of book five, as well as book four, and two separate copies of book two, one hardcover and one paperback. Combined with the copy of book six that I've been using as a mousepad for my laptop since forever ago, that's a little over half the series I have at my ready disposal.  
**

**Also, it's been three days since I updated this last, so you get three chapters of varying length! Mostly because I wanted to get as much of the necessary exposition out of the way as possible. These three chapters are of a marginally more sober tone, but chapter ten, when it's finished, should return us to levity and silliness.  
**

* * *

"_Ohay__ō gozaim__ásu_... _hachibi no jinchūriki._"

The second those words were said, there was a blur of motion. Cloth fluttered soundlessly. Cold steel glinted in the candlelight.

And suddenly Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore was surrounded by three murderous Cloud jōnin. There was a tantō at his throat, courtesy of Samui, and Karui and Omoi each held a katana across his torso, one from behind and one from in front.

Hagrid choked, unable to believe what he was seeing.

Snape scowled darkly. His hand instinctively twitching toward his wand, before he stopped it. It would do no good to try and attack them now, with the position they were in. Not as long they had the headmaster...

Dumbledore simply smiled goodnaturedly, as though three elite kumo-nin were NOT presently in a position to cut him down at a moment's notice. "_Oh, and hello to you three, as well,_" he greeted amicably.

Killer Bee quirked an eyebrow at his students' behavior. "What do... What are you doing, _bakayarō, konoyarō?_ Don't attack _kuraientsu_. That's the rule_._"

"_Are you mad?-!_" Karui hissed at him. "_This guy knows about the Eight-Tails! More than that, he knows that you're its container!_"

Bee shrugged nonchalantly, switching back into Japanese. "_So what? Back in Cloud, everyone knows, from the elite top brass to the average joes._"

Omoi frowned. "_Well, yeah, but... For all we know, this could be an assassination attempt. We can't take that risk!_"

Killer Bee cocked his head to the side. "_Hm, an assassination... that could be nice... Been a while since someone's tried to have me iced._"

Omoi and Karui sweat-dropped at this, their grips on their swords unconsciously slacking ever so slightly.

"_Oy, oy, oy..._" Karui muttered, "_Sensei, you idiot..._"

"_Saying something like that..._" Omoi groaned. "_You really are Lord Raikage's brother..._"

Bee grinned. "_Yeah, that's right. You know it's true. Ain't no old fart gonna run me through. Let him go, let's get to talkin', so we can get this mission rockin'._"

Sighing, the trio realized that their master was not about to listen to reason. Reluctantly, they released the elderly man and stepped back, ignoring the nasty looks they were getting from Snape, who more than likely dearly longed to hex them into dust.

Dumbledore smiled. "_Many thanks to you, Bee-dono. That was getting to be most uncomfortable._" He chortled pleasantly. "_Now, I suppose you are wondering why I brought you all here..._"

Samui, as the acting captain of Team Samui, nodded slowly, not once relaxing as she stayed alert. Beside her, Omoi and Karui were similarly on edge.

Dumbledore nodded back at them. "_Yes, of course. But my story is a long one, and you are no doubt weary from the side-along apparation._

With a flick of his wrist, a long thin stick appeared in his hand, causing Bee's three students to give a start, thinking for a brief instant that he was drawing a weapon.

Then Samui, upon seeing the item in the elderly man's hand, relaxed slightly. She didn't know what the stick was for, but she also couldn't see any way that the old man could use it as a viable weapon against them. Giving her two teammates a glance, they nodded in understanding and stood down.

The old man's smile brightened. With a flourish of his wand, he conjured four overstuffed armchairs, once more setting the trio on high alert.

"_Please, have a seat,_" he said cheerfully. "_And I shall begin the tale of the Dark Lord Voldemort and the boy-who-lived._"

**TTFN and R&R!**

* * *

_translation notes:_

_"kuraientsu" - my approximation of Engrish for 'clients'_

_"dono" - a highly formal, respectful honorific; the difference between this and 'sama' is unclear_


	8. Dumping Info is Punishable as Littering

**Remember the Name**

A _Naruto _x _Harry Potter_ Crossover

By

EvilFuzzy9

_"He who enjoys doing and enjoys what he has done is happy."_

- Goethe

* * *

**A/N: At first I was gonna have Dumbledore explain how he knew Bee was the container of the Eight-Tails in this chapter, but I ended up deciding to push that back for a later date. Also, as for the timeline of this fic, the events so far are taking place only a week or so after the end of Harry's fourth year, I think... I figured it would be nice to start at an earlier point than the events of **_**Dudley Demented**_**, mainly because that should ostensibly give me sufficient time to reread **_**OotP**_** without having to put this on hiatus while I do so.**

**Also, I skipped over the actual exposition dialogue, but can you really blame me? That's a butt load of info that needs to be dumped on our heroes to get them up to speed, and I sure as heck ain't gonna be the one to write it out.  
**

**And this is the first chapter of this fic to not have a song lyrics title.  
**

* * *

At first, the members of Team Samui were reluctant to seat themselves. They did not wholly trust the chairs, which had appeared out of nowhere in a most unusual manner, or the man who had conjured them. They were elite ninja of the Hidden Cloud, after all, and they didn't earn their stripes by trusting strangers and letting their guards down.

Moreover, the chairs looked like they couldn't be the least bit ergonomic.

But eventually, when their master Killer Bee decided to take a seat for himself, the seat closest to the old man and the two others, they relented.

As they sank into the chairs, Karui let out a moan. "_So niiiice..._"she moaned in Japanese, sinking into the overstuffed cushions. "_It's so soft..._" she purred, unable to help herself.

Samui rolled her eyes at Karui's behavior. Sure the chairs were comfortable, but there was no need to be so loud about it. "_Cool chairs,_" she whispered under her breath.

"_Oh, my aching back..._" Omoi groaned as he leaned back in his chair. "_I don't think I've had a chance to sit down in __weeks__...!_"

Dumbledore smiled at the three, eyes twinkling. "_Well, I'm glad to hear that you are comfortable. But I am afraid that you will not be able to appreciate it for very long. No, for dark times are upon us. Voldemort has arisen once more; war is brewing in the wizarding world._"

And so, having set the mood, he began telling them his tale.

He told them of the wizarding world. Of magic and the founding of Hogwarts. He told them of the four founders, Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. He told them of the lines descended from the four, and of the Gaunt family in particular.

He told them of the orphan boy Tom Marvolo Riddle, born from the unwitting union of the muggle Tom Riddle, ensnared by amortentia, with the last daughter of the Gaunt line. He told them of the boy, and who he grew to become. He told them of the Dark Lord Voldemort, one of the cruelest, most wicked wizards in centuries, and of his servants, the Death Eaters.

He told them of the war. Of the Order of the Phoenix which rose up to oppose the Death Eaters and their master. He told them of the bloodshed, the betrayal, the suffering, the fear that gripped the wizarding world in those days. And he told them of hope. Of the talented young witches and wizards who fought, who put their very lives on the line, for what they believed was right.

He told them of how it seemed like none could defeat the dark lord, how none could stop him, and how so many had died trying. He then told them of the tyrant's fall. Of a child, an infant of one year, against whom Voldemort used the killing curse–_avada kedavra_–and failed.

Harry Potter, the boy-who-lived. The only person in history to survive that curse.

He explained to them how the killing curse rebounded upon Voldemort, reducing him to a mean, wretched spirit, an impotent shadow of his former terror. He told them how Voldemort spent nearly ten and a half years in that state, regaining his strength, biding his time until he could be revived.

He told them about Harry's childhood, about his adventures and misadventures in Hogwarts, ultimately leading up to the resurrection of Voldemort during the final phase of the Triwizard Tournament a mere few weeks earlier. And finally, he told them of his plan to revive the Order of the Phoenix to oppose the dark lord once more.

By the time he was finished, it was well into the morning. Hagrid had fallen asleep on a massive, lumpy, lopsided sofa of his own conjuring, and Snape was sulking in a dark corner. The residents of the portraits of headmasters past were awakening, scarcely paying any heed to the strangers. It was hardly an unusual sight, to see Dumbledore meeting with all sorts of queer-looking folk in his office, so none paid it any comment.

Karui swore once the headmaster finished. "_Damn... That's a lot to take in._"

Omoi nodded in agreement. "_Yeah. That's crazy. Coming back from the dead like that..._" He shivered.

"_Uncool,_" Samui muttered. "_These 'Death Eaters'... I don't like them. And that Voldemort guy..._" She shook her head. "_At first, this was just business. But now that I know what kind of monsters you guys are up against, there's just no way we'll be able to settle for anything less than the complete destruction of that man and everything he's worked towards. Right guys?_"

"_Yeah,_" Omoi said with a grin, "_With Sensei here with us, those guys don't stand a chance._"

Karui nodded fervently at this, a vicious grin on her face. "_Un. This 'Vorumo-yarō' won't be getting off easy. Not with us on the job. Heh._" She smirked."_Team Samui isn't to be taken lightly, y'know. Pretty much the only way those 'Deddo Itaasu' punks could be any more screwed would be if Raikage-sama himself were here._"

Samui and Omoi nodded in agreement, while Bee looked to be lost in thought.

Snape scowled at their apparent levity. "_You four would do well not to underestimate the Dark Lord and his servants,_" he warned. "_He-who-must-not-be-named is not considered the most dangerous dark wizard in centuries for no reason._"

Killer Bee looked up at this. "_'No reason'..._" he muttered under his breath, before pulling out a pencil and a small notebook. "_... 'Yo, listen up, there ain't no reason'..._" he mumbled to himself as he wrote. "... _'Notorious outlaw... All the ladies I'm squeezin'._"

He then frowned. "_Nah, that wouldn't work... Maybe..._"

Dumbledore smiled. "_Well, then, I think I've kept you long enough. Hagrid,_" he said, addressing the half-giant, who startled awake. "_Would you mind escorting our guests to their temporary quarters in the third floor corridor? I have some business I must see to with a certain Mister Black..._"

**TTFN and R&R!**

* * *

_translation notes:_

_"un" - monosyllabic affirmative; 'yeah'_

_"vorumo-yarō" - a rude, insulting butchered Engrish nickname for Voldemort made by Karui because 'voldemort' is too much trouble to remember_


	9. Don't Expect Spies to Trust Your Word

**Remember the Name**

A _Naruto _x _Harry Potter_ Crossover

By

EvilFuzzy9

_"Fresh ideas are not always the best ideas."_

- Fortune Cookie

* * *

**A/N: This chapter is just the last bit of foreshadowing and exposition for now. It was gonna contain more than just this short scene, originally, but I felt like this brief little discussion was heavy enough to stand alone as its own chapter.**

**EDIT (4-30-12): Fixed a bit of punctuation and added translation notes for sake of being thorough.  
**

* * *

Once Hagrid left with the guests, Snape whirled around to face Dumbledore.

"Tell me, Headmaster, what is your aim in involving ninja in the affairs of wizards?" he demanded stoically. "I hardly believe this is as simple as seeking aid." His eyes narrowed.

Dumbledore smiled at him, that infuriatingly bright smile of his. "I have no idea what you mean, Severus. I simply thought it would be a fine opportunity to renew bonds between long sundered schools of magic. There is a power unassuming in the ancient ways of Ninshū, a power that could prove most valuable to us in these dark times," he answered vaguely.

Snape glowered. "I'm not like the others, Headmaster. I'll not so easily swallow such tripe. There's more to this than you're letting on...

"Tell me," he whispered darkly, leaning over Dumbledore's desk, "If this was simply about the power of their arts, than surely _any_ of them, from _any_ of their 'Hidden Villages', would have sufficed. But you had me specifically seek out that man. Tell me, Dumbledore, what is it about that man that sets him apart from any other? Why were you so adamant on it being _him?_" he hissed.

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled mirthfully. "You don't let anything get past you, do you? No, of course not," he said, answering his own rhetorical question. "You're much too good of a spy not to notice something so obvious. And you're right, of course, there IS something about Bee-dono in particular that sets him apart from the others...

"... Tell me, Severus, what do you know of _Rikudō Sen'nin? _Of the ancient Sage of Six Paths?"

**TTFN and R&R!**

* * *

_translation notes:_

_"ninshū" - ninja sect; the name of the religion founded by the Sage of Six Paths in Naruto canon  
_

_"rikudō sen'nin" - lit., six-path sage; the Sage of Six Paths  
_


	10. Paying for Goods and Fanservice

**Remember the Name**

A _Naruto _x _Harry Potter_ Crossover

By

EvilFuzzy9

_"A real friend asks to spend time with you, not money."_

- Fortune Cookie

* * *

**A/N: It's nice to know so many people are liking this, so far. Haha, it's always nice to know that even something as self indulgent and unprofessional as this (not that I'm a professional of any sort) can find fans. :) **

**Also, in response to Immortalis Cruor Elf's review, because for some reason they disabled the private messaging feature, while I'm glad you enjoy this so much, and amused by your review, I must point out that, short though my chapters for this may be, I tend to write them in batches. Furthermore, I'd like to point out that submitting a review essentially just saying "update soon" a mere day after the previous update is not exactly the most... erm... **_**appreciated **_**way of telling a writer that you want more. It's much too direct, for one thing. If you want to coax a writer into writing faster, I've found in my own personal experience, that thoughtful, in depth reviews tend to get more response.**

**... man, that was a big wall of text. I really do appreciate the appreciation, but some authors are not so accomodating to reviews of that sort. Reviews are appreciated, but all the moreso if they're topical or relevant to content of what you're reviewing. Just to let you know~**

* * *

"Ahhh... That was a nice shower..." Karui moaned happily to herself, walking out of the bathroom and into her and Samui's shared bedroom. She was wearing nothing but a towel wrapped loosely around her slender, lean frame. There was steam at her back, following her out of the bathroom.

Her short, vibrant red hair was dripping water onto the stone floor, which felt pleasantly cool beneath the soles of her feet. She stretched her arms and curved her spine this way and that, rolling her shoulders to relieve some of the tension that had built up over the past few weeks of consecutive field assignments. She paid little heed to her towel loosening with the mildly therapeutic contortions sliding down her waist.

So what if it rode a little low, or even fell off entirely? The only other person in the room was Samui, and she rarely felt the need for any sort of real modesty when it was just the two of them. They had been working together ever since they were first put on a genin team together, and though there was the occasional bit of friction between them due to their wildly differing personalities, they were essentially as close to each other as blood.

"Oy, Samui," she drawled, flopping down onto her bed, her towel nearly coming undone. "Your turn."

The blonde, looking up from the book she had been reading–_Hogwarts, A History_, or something like that–huffed disapprovingly at the thick steam that was seeping from the open bathroom door.

"Geeze, Karui," she muttered, delicately cocking an eyebrow, "Just how hot were you running that shower?"

The redhead shrugged noncommittally, still sprawled out face-down on her bed. "I'unno," she mumbled in response, shifting her face to the side so she didn't get a mouthful of blankets while she spoke. "I _think_ I might've had it turned all the way up, but other than that..."

Samui shook her head, tutting distastefully as she set her book down and got up out of the chair. "You're even worse than my _brother_, I swear," she remarked dryly.

Karui ignored that jibe, instead untying her towel and baring her back. "Hey, Samui," she said, a hint of a request in her tone, "Before you go in there, mind rubbing my back a little? I've got more knots than a sailor's tie, I swear to god."

She shot a pair of big, doeful puppy-dog-eyes at her teammate to punctuate this request.

Samui threw a throw pillow at her teammate's face. She hit her mark, of course, and Karui swore before tearing it off of her face and whipping it back at the blonde.

Samui tilted her head a little to the side, completely dodging the retaliatory shot. "Get someone else to do it," she droned. "Unless you feel like rubbing my back in return..."

"Too tired to," Karui answered lazily, lying inert on her bed.

Samui snorted. "That's what I thought. Now hurry up and get dressed. I don't plan to be in there long, and sensei told us we'll be getting our first orders today."

Karui pouted. "Bah," she grumbled, "Why couldn't they even let us get good night's rest before giving us more work? It hasn't even been three hours since we finished the mission briefing..."

"Yes," Samui replied. "And it feels like you spent over _half_ that time in the shower."

"Couldn't help it..." Karui groaned, sitting up on top of her towel naked as a lark. "I hadn't had a real shower in like _forever_, and these wizard-folks make some damn good soap."

"Oh, whatever," Samui sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Just get dressed, already. I'll be in the shower." She walked into the bathroom, which was still filled with steam. Turning to shut the door, she added, "I should only be a few minutes."

* * *

An hour and a half later, Samui and Karui, dressed in their usual outfits, finally joined up with Omoi and Bee in the teacher's lounge, a full hour late. Karui was smirking knowingly at Samui, who was herself looking rather red.

"Only a few minutes, eh?" Karui drawled smugly.

"Shutupshutup_shutup,_" Samui hissed, her hair still wet and her cheeks glowing bright crimson.

**TTFN and R&R!**

* * *

_translation notes:_

_none_


	11. Setting up Settings, Plotting out Plots

**Remember the Name**

A _Naruto _x _Harry Potter_ Crossover

By

EvilFuzzy9

_"A large tree may have some withered twigs; a large family may have some ne'er-do-well offspring."_

- Unknown Author

* * *

**A/N: Not much to see here, just setting up setting...**

* * *

"One thousand years..." the portrait of former headmaster Phineas Nigellus Black moaned. "One thousand years of history in this fine establishment, and you hire these... _buffoons_... to protect it? Back in my day, the headmaster of Hogwarts would not have been caught dead cavorting with such a pack of imbeciles and incompetents!"

Dumbledore, who was busy setting up the fidelius charm for the new headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, ignored the portrait with practiced ease. It was far from the first time his liberal policies had been decried and lambasted by the decidedly traditionalist non-man. A decent fraction of the former headmasters and headmistresses represented on the wall of his office disapproved of his methods to some measure or other, but old Phineas was one of the most vehement by far.

Admittedly, the portrait of the man who was known among several circles as possibly the least-liked headmaster in the history of Hogwarts was usually more passive-aggressive in his disapproval, with a _hem-hem_ here and a _Look_ there, but the presence of non-wizards in the very heart of Hogwarts had riled him something fierce. The second he learned that the individuals whom Albus had hired were likely completely incapable of what he deemed "proper magic", he became firmly opposed to their presence at the school.

It had only been a few hours since the four had arrived, but already Phineas Nigellus Black's indignant ranting had earned him several reprimands from even those of the former headmasters and headmistresses who were the most sympathetic to his cause, to say nothing of those who thought the argumentative man was full of it.

But Dumbledore was a patient man. He knew that Phineas would run out of material for his ranting eventually, even if it took him several more hours. It was inevitable, really. And once he ran out of steam, Albus could simply look up at the portrait, twinkle his eyes, and say something to the effect of "That's nice."

It would certainly infuriate Mister Black (not to be confused with the _other _Mister Black, Sirius III, whom Dumbledore had only a few days ago convinced to move back into his family's ancestral home), that was to be certain. And Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore was hardly averse to using such passive aggressive tactics as treating the portait of a former headmaster in the same manner as he would a child throwing a temper tantrum.

... but, looking at the hour displayed on his watch (which, although far more accurate than either analogue or digital, was generally indecipherable to anyone not possessed of an intimate familiarity with astronomy and arithmancy), it would seem that this would have to wait for later. It was nearly time for the first meeting of the revived Order of the Phoenix.

Bidding the seething Phineas a cheerful adieu, Dumbledore gathered up his wand and some parchment and left for the teacher's lounge.

* * *

Sirius "Padfoot" Black III, first and least favorite son of the late Orion and Walburga Black, glared at the silver serpent knocker affixed to the front door of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. If looks could kill... well, the knocker would have been unaffected all the same, since it was ultimately just an inanimate object, but it was the thought that counted. And the thought, in this case, was to torch the building he was standing in front of (under disguise, of course) and never look back.

But no matter how much he wanted to see this damnable place burn to the ground (and he wanted to, _very much_), it was needed. Loth as he was to admit it, the ancestral home of the Black family (which could trace its _official_ history back to nearly the very earliest days of wizardry in the British Isles) was perhaps one of the most secure places in the isles, short of Hogwarts. There was ancient and powerful magic woven into the very earth upon which 12 Grimmauld Place stood, much of it even elder and darker than any of the arts available to You-Know-Who and his Death Eaters, protective charms of every sort had been layered on top of it with every successive generation.

Paranoid blood-fanatics though his ancestors may have been, it was not for no reason that the Black family had long been considered one of the most prestigious bloodlines in the Wizarding World, surpassed only by some of the truly _ancient_ magical lines in Asia and the Mediterranean who could trace their lineages literally back to the dawn of civilization. They'd had access to some of the darkest and most powerful arts in Western European sorcery, and they had been perfectly willing to put those arts to use.

That did not mean he was happy to be there, however. No, it was quite the opposite. He abhorred everything about what his family had been, and this grimy abandoned manse for him represented all the worst faults of the Black family. So it was only with an pronounced grimace that the gaunt, scruffy man opened the door and walked inside.

He could only hope that Dumbledore would let him see his godson come over to stay soon enough, because the thought of staying in this damned place without a friendly face to keep him company was enough to have him thinking almost _fondly_ of his time in Azkaban.

And that was scarier than any number of dark wizards.

**TTFN and R&R!**

* * *

_translation notes:_

_none_


	12. We're Still Early, By Kakashi Time

**Remember the Name**

A _Naruto _x _Harry Potter_ Crossover

By

EvilFuzzy9

_"He was always late on principle, his principle being that punctuality is the thief of time."_

- Oscar Wilde

* * *

**A/N: I really like the above quote, it would do very well at describing individuals like Kakashi or Obito. XP**

**Also, I don't believed I've mentioned it yet, but this fic is actually my first time writing **_**any**_** of these characters, save Bee, and even that was only for a single, cracky oneshot about a year ago. So, yeah, do feel free to let me know if you think I'm not doing a specific character justice with their portrayal (and be specific, if you don't mind; it's more helpful, that way).**

**Also, while it's my personal goal to try and avoid or at least subvert some of the more annoying cliches in HP x Naruto crossovers, I make no guarantees that this fic will be completely free of them, because that would honestly not leave me much to work with. **

* * *

"_Konnichiwa,_" Samui said with a casual wave of her hand, greeting Bee-sensei and Omoi.

"Good afternoon," she added, for the benefit of the rather severe-looking woman standing off to one side of the lounge, near a sizable stone fireplace. She had no idea if this woman could speak her language like Dumbledore, Snape, and Hagrid could, so it was only logical to hedge her bets.

It would do no good to come across as either rude or ignorant, after all.

The witch, who appeared to momentarily purse her lips in something like disapproval, her eyes briefly flicking discreetly to the front of Samui's black low-cut shirt before returning back up to meet her eyes. It was clear that the conservatively dressed older woman (it was odd to think of anyone as really _old_ after meeting with the positively ancient Headmaster Dumbledore, but the lady standing before her could hardly be considered _young_) did not exactly approve of the relatively revealing outfit (compared to the dress of these wizards and witches).

"Good afternoon, miss..." the woman greeted curtly, trailing off.

"Samui," she provided.

"...Samui," the older lady finished. "I had been expecting you here earlier than this," she added, giving her a pointed look. It was obvious that this woman was all business; not the sort of person to appreciate lollygagging or tardiness.

Samui approved.

Karui frowned, clearly lost. Samui turned to her and whispered a translation of what the woman had said.

And, of course, Karui just _had _to give her that smug "I told you so" grin.

"_Oh, shove it,_" she grumbled irritably, before once more turning her attention to the dour witch. "I apologize for our lateness," she said with a curt bow. "My companion and I... lost track of time while cleaning up, miss..."

"McGonagall," the witch provided. "And don't worry too much about it. The headmaster hasn't arrived yet, either."

Samui frowned at this, ignoring the lost look on Karui's face. The other girl seriously needed to learn some English, or she was going to be completely useless in terms of communication and information gathering.

"Is he usually this late?" she inquired.

McGonagall shook her head. "No, not always. But he has been rather busy, these past few weeks, you understand..."

Samui nodded. She DID understand. Preparing for a war was never easy, and the duties were often more difficult the higher up the ladder you went, if only for the sheer weight of the decisions that officers and leaders had to make.

In all honesty, it was not at all difficult to think of the headmaster as a kage, a leader among his people. Everything about the man _screamed_ of a brilliant, cunning strategic mind hidden beneath a carefully constructed façade of eccentricity. His eyes were too perceptive to be considered the eyes of a civilian. His behavior was too calculated and deliberate to be dismissed as meaningless.

And the obvious respect and admiration the man inspired in those around him... Well, it was hard for Samui _not_ to compare their employer to what she knew of the Third Hokage of the Hidden Leaf, the man who had inspired fear in awe in at least three generations of shinobi throughout the elemental nations. She herself had never seen the Third Hokage in person, but from what she had heard of him, and from what she could see of what she had heard of him in Dumbledore... Well, it was easy for her to understand why even the late, Honorable Lord Third Raikage (bless his heart) had been said to have feared and respected the man.

_Kami no Shinobi_... _Sandaime Hokage_...

And if even half of the information that Samui had been able to gather on their employer was accurate, then it would not be unfair to call Albus Dumbledore the God of Wizards.

She heard the door to the lounge open behind her.

"Hello, hello, so sorry I'm late."

Well, speak of the devil, and he shall appear.

The witch–McGonagall–turned to affix the headmaster with a look as piercing as any Samui had seen from a Hyūga with their byakugan active.

_Impressive._

"What kept you so long?" the witch inquired, her stare intensifying as her lips tightened into a thin line in a manner that was probably very useful for making her displeasure known to students without compromising her apparent stoic dignity.

_VERY impressive._

But Dumbledore simply waved her question off with a practiced ease, smiling cordially as he greeted his "guests". He nodded at Samui, and she nodded back. Then he gave Karui a polite, if playfully condescending "_Konnichiwa, Karui-chan,_" that elicited a mildly rude gesture from the redhead in retaliation.

Turning to Omoi, he twinkled his eyes at the young man who was rolling a sucker in his mouth, a nervous tic that he often displayed during meetings and planning sessions. Omoi, apparently temporarily distracted from his no doubt increasingly pessimistic paranoid imaginings, flashed the man a weak grin, the white stick of the lollipop clamped rather tightly between his teeth.

Lastly, the headmaster turned to Killer Bee and smiled, pleasantly remarking, "_I understand you have already acquainted yourself with the giant squid, Bee-dono._"

Bee-sensei, looking up from his ever-present notebook of rhymes, grinned. "_Yeah, we had a right ball, ol' squiddy and me, it was a real brawl, a thing of beau-ty._" he rapped, "_With a hop and a chop, we got into action. It was a close match, with my strength at a fraction._"

Dumbledore laughed at this. "Yes," he said, "Quite. Well, I'm glad to hear that you're using restraint, even without my needing to warn you. After all, I imagine the students would be rather upset if they were to arrive for another year at Hogwarts come September, only to find a crater where their school used to be."

There was humor in his words, but his eyes also held a subtle hint of sobriety that Samui did well to notice. It was a warning, she realized, a warning for all of them. This was to be a largely covert mission, and it would do no good for them-_any_ of them-to lose control and blow up something important. Even if she, Omoi, and Karui did not possess even a minute fraction of their sensei's raw destructive power, they were each still fully capable of causing a small fortune's worth in property damage if pressed.

Now if only Bee-sensei weren't liable to forget such warnings at the drop of the hat when not accompanied by the threat of physical violence from his big brother...

**TTFN and R&R!**

* * *

_translation notes:_

_"konnichiwa" - good afternoon (polite)_

_"kami no shinobi" - god of shinobi; Sarutobi's OTHER nickname_

_"sandaime hokage" - third fire-shadow_

_"byakugan" - pale eye; the Hyūga clan's dōjutsu_


	13. The First Meeting Begins

**Remember the Name**

A _Naruto _x _Harry Potter_ Crossover

By

EvilFuzzy9

_"When sorrows come they come not single spies,_

_But in battalions."_

- Shakespeare

* * *

**A/N: You know, it's a little selfish of me, but I can't help but think that if **_**Om Nom Nom, Hamster-chan!**_** received a similar ratio of reception-to-effort as this fic, I probably wouldn't end up stalling on it nearly so much. Like I said, I know it's kinda selfish, but that's the way the mind works sometimes.**

**Also, I hatehateHATE when my brother eats my leftover pizza from dinner the next morning, especially since I like to have it for lunch the next day. It's really annoying.**

* * *

With that out of the way, Dumbledore turned to the rest of the gathered group, which consisted of Hagrid, Snape, and McGonagall. His expression was no longer filled with levity, and Team Samui reflexively straightened their postures, standing at attention as the elderly man standing before them took on a more grim demeanor.

He was more serious, now, but his eyes were bright and shining. This was dire, unpleasant business to which they had to attend, but there was yet hope for a clean, decisive victory. Even with only the barest of details on the current situation, it was clear to Team Samui that war had not yet broken out. Not entirely.

Voldemort's resurrection had occurred fairly recently. His once vast army of loyal servants had doubtless been diminished over the course of a decade and then some, and the bulk of his forces would no doubt be composed of fresh but inexperienced youths, children who had been weaned on the corrupt ideologies of the Death Eaters and their Dark Lord.

Child soldiers.

It was an unpleasant prospect, even for shinobi who had been raised from the cradle to be loyal tools of the state. But it was, perhaps, yet better than the alternative. After all, Voldemort's most loyal, most experienced, and most fanatical followers were still locked away in Azkaban. And there they would hopefully stay.

Dumbledore opened up the meeting with a report from Snape on the current movements of the Death Eaters. From the report, it seemed that they were still be gathering their wits at the moment, but Omoi was quick to note that the Death Eaters were no doubt already sending out feelers and spies of their own, while Samui translated the discussion for Karui and their master's benefit.

The white haired young man's comment earned a dry look from Snape. Clearly, the greasy-haired, beak-nosed man considered this to be so obvious that it barely warranted mentioning.

Karui then went on a fairly angry-sounding rant in rapid Japanese, and when she finally finished after about a minute or so, Samui diplomatically paraphrased her teammate's comment (primarily for McGonagall's benefit) as "_Any ideas who the spies might be?_"

McGonagall was somewhat perplexed at how the young redhead's rather lengthy tirade could translate so succinctly, but judging by Hagrid's vibrant blush, Snape's darker than usual scowl, and Dumbledore's lightly amused grin, she concluded that it had more than likely been _thoroughly_ cleaned up in translation.

When Snape replied (in English) that, no, he was unfortunately not privy to the identities of the various informants and sleeper agents of He-Who-Must-Bloody-Well-Not-Be-Named, Karui (after having the response translated to her by Samui), snorted something rather rude-sounding under her breath that caused Snape to bristle indignantly. But Snape did not get the chance to tear into the girl for her impudence. The blonde beat him to the punch, quite literally, as she almost lazily smacked the redhead upside the head, muttering something in her native tongue that caused the redhead, who had barely flinched at the blow to her head, to visibly _pout_.

McGonagall shook her head at this in bewilderment.

Dumbledore, seeing that things were starting to degenerate, noisily cleared his throat. Once everyone in the room had (quite promptly) returned their attention to him, he smiled and made an announcement.

"As entertaining as Miss Karui's comments on Professor Snape's parentage and competence are—"

Karui flushed, looking properly chastened at this.

"—I am afraid that we must turn our focus once more to rather more serious matters. Such as, for instance, the matter of a proper headquarters for our... _club,_" he said, his eyes twinkling.

McGonagall frowned at this. "You don't mean to say... He actually _agreed_ to this?"

Team Samui, not certain as to the context of the emerging discussion, nonetheless hid their bemusement quite well.

Dumbledore simply smiled at Minerva. "I'll admit, it was quite difficult to convince him, but our friend Sirius—"

Snape grimaced visibly at the sound of that name, and Samui–in the middle of translating the ongoing dialogue for Karui and Bee–took note of this reaction.

"—was eventually forced to concede the point. Though I daresay he won't forgive me for this any time soon," he added, his mysterious smile not diminishing by so much as a single iota.

McGonagall shook her head. "I can't blame him," she said. "I can still remember how often he received howlers from his parents, back when he was still in school... There was no love between them, Albus, you know that as well as I do, if not better. That place stopped being a home to him the second the Sorting Hat placed him in Gryffindor."

She then frowned, before shaking her head. "... No, even before that... Walburga and Orion were never the most pleasant of people, and even back then, before being sorted, it was obvious that young Sirius was nothing like what a Black _should be_. Not by their standards. I can't imagine that he had ever felt welcome among his family, with how quickly he latched onto the first person to show him even the slightest amount of acceptance... Being forced to stay in that place, to live among the memories of his family... I can only imagine that must be like his own personal Hell."

Karui grimaced at this, once Samui translated it. "_Poor bastard..._" she muttered. "_I dunno who this 'Sirius' is, but I feel for him._"

Omoi nodded absently in agreement. "_Yeah, that's gotta suck..._"

Killer Bee, for his part, spent the rest of the short meeting jotting down notes on McGonagall's rant in his notebook, ideas already forming in his head for his next "hit".

**TTFN and R&R!**

* * *

_translation notes:_

_none_


	14. FlooLag is a Pain

**Remember the Name**

A _Naruto _x _Harry Potter_ Crossover

By

EvilFuzzy9

_"He who knows that enough is enough will always have enough."_

- Lao Tzu

* * *

**A/N: I don't think I'm too very happy with how this chapter turned out. It starts off kinda weak, though it does get a little better once you get past that first bit. And, honestly, it's largely just a short transitional chapter.  
**

* * *

Eventually, once the preliminary reports were concluded, Dumbledore declared that they would be heading to the new headquarters. When asked by Omoi how he planned to get there, the man simply smiled.

"Well," he said brightly, "It's not entirely safe to floo directly there—"

Omoi couldn't help but wonder what on earth "floo" was.

"—so we'll have to take a more indirect route," Dumbledore explained-not-at-all with an all too cheerful smile.

Omoi, as well as the rest of the team, was not at all comfortable with the twinkle in the headmaster's eye when he said that. Neither, for that matter, were the other three people present.

There was no doubt in anyone's minds that this was going to be a very long, VERY exhausting trip.

* * *

It was.

When they finally reached their apparent destination–a patch of unkempt grass in the middle of a small square in what looked to be a very bad part of whatever bloody town they were in now–all parties involved, ninja and wizard alike, were quite thoroughly drained, though for different reasons.

For the wizards, it was the hour and a half of briskly hiking between floo-spots and the general emotional exhaustion of maintaining levels of caution and awareness bordering on the level of outright paranoia for an extended period of time. For the ninja, however, it was the lingering nausea and dizziness and soot-filled lungs from a dozen-some trips through the floo network that they had taken in order to thoroughly stymie any would-be pursuers. But both parties were quite annoyed and quite out of it as they stood (hidden under disillusionment charms, as it was still the middle of the day) in front of the empty space between two grimy, ramshackle houses.

So when Dumbledore handed each of them a slip of paper and told them to memorize what was on the slips before destroying them, it took some of them a couple of minutes to get the squiggly lines on the papers to form into actual words. But once they did, they destroyed the papers as instructed (most of the wizards used their wands to incinerate them, though Hagrid let Dumbledore take care of his, while the ninja stacked their papers together and had Omoi channel some lightning natured chakra through them, reducing them to ashes which Karui covertly ground into the dirt beneath her heel).

Once they had all done so, Dumbledore told them to concentrate on what they'd just read. And _wouldn't you know it._ The second they did so, a big bleedin' house appeared right out of nowhere in the middle of the empty square, so large that it actually _squished_ the two houses on either side of it until they were barely half their proper width.

Of course, Team Samui outright boggled at this. Even Killer Bee looked a little stunned, though he still took it rather easily in stride.

After a moment of standing there, staring at the large, decrepit house, Team Samui realized that the others were heading inside. They quickly followed suit, Omoi and Samui fanning out once they were through the door, scanning the dusty hallway they'd entered.

"_This place feels nasty..._"Omoi muttered, glancing nervously over his shoulder. "_And I don't mean the dust. It's like... there's almost a __**presence**_ _about this place. Like it's ALIVE._"

Samui nodded in agreement, scowling at an exceptionally hideous umbrella stand that looked like a massive, deformed leg covered with knobbly, green-gray hide. "_Yeah, I know what you mean... It's creepy. Feels like walking right into an ambush..._" she muttered, before turning to look at Snape, Hagrid, and McGonagall. "You guys might want to stand back while we secure the perimeter," she said, completely professional.

"No need to worry about that, miss," came a man's voice. He sounded bitter. "There's no one else here. You lot are probably the first people outside the Black family to set foot in this place in almost twenty years."

Samui wheeled around, whipping out her tantō and slipping into a combat ready stance. "Who goes there?" she barked harshly, the air becoming thick with her icy _sakki_.

"Black," said the voice, as a scruffy, ill-shaven man with the look of a hunted animal walked into view. He looked to be largely unaffected by Samui's killing intent. "Sirius Black."

**TTFN and R&R!**

* * *

_translation notes:_

_"sakki" - killing intent (if I have the right of it)_


	15. Welcome to Number Twelve, Meeting Resume

**Remember the Name**

A _Naruto _x _Harry Potter_ Crossover

By

EvilFuzzy9

_"If you wish to see the best in others, show the best of yourself."_

- Fortune Cookie (source unknown)

* * *

**A/N: I like this chapter more than the previous one. It's got some nice characterization in it, I think, though it gets a little weak in the middle, for a little bit. Also, if anyone knows how _"[...] and kill him?"_ would be written in Japanese, I'd like to know. That would be nice, thanks. Also, I'm going to be switching to another laptop in the near future, and transferring all my files and junk will probably keep me from doing much writing for the duration.  
**

* * *

Snape's lip curled as though he had just stepped in something unpleasant. "Hello, _Sirius,_" he said with only barest veneer of civility. "I see you've not bothered tidying up for your guests." He sneered.

The man, who had just introduced himself as Sirius Black, grinned darkly. "Yes, and I see you're just all gussied up in your Sunday best," he drawled, paying no attention to the others who were present as he locked eyes with the potions master.

Electricty seemed to crackle between them, and the air was considerably chillier than it had been a few moments ago.

Omoi gulped. "_Hell..._" he muttered nervously, wiping a bit of cold sweat from his brow."_Those two aren't just playing around... I feel like I'm looking at two mortal enemies. That killing intent..._"

"..._It feels like the real deal,_" Karui finished for him, her knuckles nearly white as they gripped the hilt of her katana, her instincts screaming at her that a fight was about to break out.

Severus sneered. "Yes, well I suppose that even these worn out potions robes must seem rather luxurious to you, considering the rags you're wearing. But this new look of yours rather suits you, don't you think? Now you look like the wretched, desperate outlaw you truly are." His lips lifted into something almost like a cruel, taunting grin.

Sirius snarled. "And you look as greasy on the outside as you are on the inside, _Snivellus!_"

Something flashed in Snape's eyes, and his expression darkened severely. His hand shot for his wand, only to be caught in a firm grip. Snape's eyes widened infinitesimally.

Standing in front of him, completely blocking Black from sight, was the large, platinum-blond, sunglasses-wearing Killer Bee.

"Do not fight," Bee said causally in his thick accent, "Do what's right, _bakayarō, konoyarō._" Sparing a look for Sirius, he grinned.

"Yo," Bee greeted.

Sirius, stunned at how the large man had managed to put himself between the two of them before Snape could even grab his wand, nodded dumbly in acknowledgement. Raising a hand to wave in salutation, he smiled weakly and said, "Good afternoon."

* * *

After Snape and Black's... _reunion_... Dumbledore cheerfully led the present members of the Order into the living room of the house, where a sizable fire was burning in the fireplace. There were a number of chairs which had been arranged around a magical folding card table that Sirius had retrieved from the drawing room.

Hagrid stayed standing, as none of the chairs present could have possibly fit him, as did Killer Bee, who said he didn't feel like sitting down at the moment. Everyone else took a seat around the table.

"So this is gonna be your headquarters, huh?" Omoi muttered. "Are you sure this place is safe, though? I mean, it looks like it could come crashing down at any moment... and it _still_ feels like we're being watched..." he added, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

Sirius shook his head. "It's probably just Kreacher," he said, pronouncing the word as though it left a bad taste in his mouth.

Karui frowned. "But what kind of creature...?" It was quiet for a moment.

Karui gave a start. Her eyes widened. She slapped a hand over her mouth, unable to believe what had she just said.

Sirius frowned at her reaction, until he noticed that nearly everyone else in the room looked just as startled as she was. "Did I miss something?" he asked, an eyebrow raised.

"Miss Karui can't speak a word of English," McGonagall provided, "Or at least, she _couldn't_..."

Sirius blinked. "Huh..." he muttered, "And here all this time, I thought he was just telling tall tales..."

Snape cocked an eyebrow imperiously. "Care to share these 'tall tales' with us, Black?"

Sirius briefly scowled at Snape, before shaking his head. "Hmph. Well, it's just... Back when I was a boy, my _father_—" he said this word with exceptional venom, "—used to invite... _'respectable'_... wizards over from all over to talk business. _Pure blood _business," he added meaningfully. "And... I guess not all of them must have been able to speak English very well..."

Hagrid gaped. "Translation charms? But ain't that..."

"Impossible, yes," Dumbledore said, nodding thoughtly. "Only apparently it is not _quite_ so impossible, after all..." He eyed the card table curiously, taking out his wand to tap it. He hummed thoughtfully as he traced invisible designs over the tabletop. "Interesting..." He shook his head. "Well, no matter. Let us not be distracted by the how or the why of the matter. We have many more things of far greater urgency which we must still discuss, before we can adjourn this meeting."

He turned to look at Sirius. "Have you contacted all the members you could?"

Sirius nodded. "Yeah, it was a nightmare, running all over the place, but I managed to contact most of them. Lupin said he should be dropping by today or tomorrow, and Mundungus is trying to get in touch with some of his contacts in the underground. And Figg said she'd try and keep an eye on Harry, if that helps any."

McGonagall pursed her lips. "Well, she is quite resourceful, but I'd feel rather safer if we could spare a member or two to keep an eye on Potter. There's not much Arabella would be able to do, should someone–or some_thing_–make an attempt on the boy's life..."

Samui cocked her head to the side. "Potter... He's a VIP, isn't he? The Boy-Who-Lived?"

McGonagall nodded.

"Well, then," said Samui, "I suppose I could spare myself or one of my subordinates to keep an eye on him for now. Unless you can't spare us for guard duty...?"

Dumbledore smiled enigmatically. "Not at all," he said. "Quite the opposite, in fact–most of your work with us will no doubt be involving protection details, so there should be no problem with one of you watching out for Harry, so long as he does not know you are there."

Samui smirked. "Keep from being seen? Cool. That shouldn't be a problem for any of us."

Karui sighed at this. "Bah," she grumbled. "Guard duty. What a gyp."

Omoi rolled his eyes. "Hey, guard duty's pretty safe, compared to something infiltration or assassination."

Hagrid paled slightly at the mention of "assassination".

The redhead snorted. "Yeah, but it's _boring as hell_," she griped. "Why can't we just track down this _Vorumo-yarō_—" The card table sparked and twitched as the translation charm on it struggled to keep up with Karui. "—_and kill him?_" she finished in Japanese, the translation charm having completely shorted out.

Nearly all the wizards at the table blanched. Even Sirius and McGonagall, who didn't understand the actual words, had a pretty good idea of what Karui had just said.

Dumbledore shook his head. "No, I am afraid that Voldemort—" Half the wizards at the table flinched. "—has gone too far in his quest for immortality to be killed by any ordinary, or even most extraordinary, means."

Karui scowled at this (after Samui translated it for her), and she grumbled some very not-nice things under her breath about cheating snakes and their questionable sexual preferences.

* * *

Somewhere, hiding out in the old English countryside, a certain You-Know-Who sneezed all over a progress report from Lucius Malfoy. The paper ignited in black flames where his spittle touched it, burning to ashes in seconds.

Voldemort swore.

**TTFN and R&R!**

* * *

_translation notes:_

_none_


	16. Cowards and Face Punching

**Remember the Name**

A _Naruto _x _Harry Potter_ Crossover

By

EvilFuzzy9

_"The less one has to do, the less time one finds to do it in."_

- Lord Chesterfield

* * *

**A/N: Maah, I've been trying to be somewhat even with focusing on characters, but Samui and Karui like stealing the spotlight, and Bee more often than not lets them. And poor Omoi ends up getting shunted off to the side in favor of Bee's rapping,**** Karui's face-punching**, and** Samui's boobs**. I try to give him his fair share of the spotlight, but his primary gimmick is surprisingly annoying to work into dialogue. In over fifteen chapters, I've only really used his character-specific running gag once. It doesn't help that he's kinda forgettable (I keep messing up his and Darui's faces in my head), while Karui and Samui both cover two different types of sexy and Bee is just plain crazy awesome.  


**Honestly, probably my favorite character to write for this is Karui. In terms of personality, she's kinda like a mix of Naruto (minus all the bro-angst and messianic undertones) and Sakura (minus everything but the pettanko and tsundere, the latter of which is pumped up to eleven and focused heavily on the tsun-tsun).  
**

* * *

The second meeting of the revived Order of Phoenix, which had started only an hour or two after the first one, was well under way. After arranging schedules for watching over Harry–Karui had refused to volunteer for it, but Omoi and Samui had been more than happy to accept alternating shifts–they'd begun debating where the Death Eaters might strike first.

"They'll go for the Ministry first, no doubt," McGonagall said. "A number of former Death Eaters hold high ranking positions, which will make it easy to infiltrate."

"Certainly, that is a possibility," Dumbledore agreed, "But what would we be able to do to prevent it? I'm afraid that the Ministry does not wish to acknowledge Voldemort's return, and I do not imagine they would appreciate having ministry workers accused of being Death Eaters."

Hagrid, who hadn't made much contribution to the discussions thus far, frowned. "_Politics_," he grunted somewhat bitterly. "Yeh can't reason wit' a politician; 's a right pain, tryin' to deal with 'em. Makin' 'em admit they might've been wrong is like tryin' ter keep flobberworms out of a cabbage patch–flat _impossible_."

"For once," Snape drawled, "I agree with him. Many of the individuals whom we suspect–or _know_–to be Death Eaters are wealthy politicians who make a habit of liberally donating to assorted hospitals and charities. Fudge would sooner cut off his own right arm than get rid of someone like Lucius, who has made numerous campaign donations in the past."

Omoi shook his head. "Lucius Malfoy... He's one of the known Death Eaters, isn't he?"

McGonagall nodded. "He was one the ones identified by the Dark Lord, according to Potter"

"I see... And he's one of those filthy rich sorts, huh? The kind that are able to buy their way out of anything?"

"Unfortunately," McGonagall replied.

Omoi groaned. "_Mendokuse..._" he muttered. "I hate dealing with that sort. They're dangerous. Sneaky."

"Too cunning by half," Snape grumbled. "He was one of the first to distance himself from He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, after his fall, and also one of the first to answer his former lord's call upon his revival."

Samui growled in distaste. "So he's a coward, then. The sort of person to switch loyalties at the drop of a hat..." her eyes were smouldering. "Someone who chooses sides based on who's most likely to win... I hate people like that," she said, fingering the hilt of her tantō in its sheath, clearly wanting very much to make something _bleed_. She usually wasn't so blatantly temperamental, but few things stuck in her craw worse than traitors and cowards.

Now, the translation charm on the table was still on the fritz, so Karui couldn't really follow the conversation. She could get the general gist of the tone of the discussion from the looks on everyone's faces and other various contextual cues, but that was hardly the same thing as understanding the language. So when she saw Samui grasping at her short sword with an expression on her face of what the redhead recognized as restrained disgust and murderous intent, she naturally assumed that a fight was about to go down.

If there was one thing that could be said about Karui, it was that she had inherited the Uzumaki temper just a fully as she had their distinctive blood-red hair. While she _could_ be civil and restrained if the situation called for it, doing so tended to chafe at her psyche on a fundamental level. When you got right down to it, her blood was hot and quick to boil, and her passionate spirit was nearly unmatched and equally volatile. She was coarse and fickle and easily angered, and her demeanor lent itself better to the visceral grapples and throws of the Hidden Cloud's style of martial arts than to the art of the sword.

Karui was a brawler at heart. She lived for the thrill of the fight, and the glory of victory. She was never all that good at handling sensitive assignments, though that didn't stop the Raikage from assigning her to them in the vain hope that she would eventually improve in that respect.

No, she was impatient and a bit dense at times, with more than a little tendency to leap before she looked and a personal credo of "stab first, ask questions never". But if you wanted some ass kicked and gum chewed, no questions asked... well, then she was your girl.

Thus, it was only natural, in hindsight, that she would get worked up from all the tension in the air and try to settle matters by punching people in the face until the problem went away.

Thankfully, Karui's teammates were able to restrain her before things got too out of hand. Snape was a wee bit sour about the broken nose, but otherwise everything was just hunky-dory.

Not.

"... Soooo..." Hagrid said, uncertain how to break the uncomfortable silence that had fallen over the gathered individuals, "... 'ow about tha' prophecy in the Department o' Mysteries, then?"

**TTFN and R&R!**

* * *

_translation notes:_

_"mendokuse" - troublesome, "what a drag" (dub)  
_


	17. Itachizoku

**Remember the Name**

A _Naruto _x _Harry Potter_ Crossover

By

EvilFuzzy9

_"If you must choose between two evils, pick the one you've never tried before."_

- Author Unknown

* * *

**A/N: I had way too much fun doing Karui's accent in the second part of this chapter. I work at a Chinese restaurant, so I drew from my experience for the accent, even if a Chinese accent IS different from a Japanese accent, it's close enough that the average English speaker probably wouldn't know the difference.  
**

**Welp, I've basically finished transferring my files and junk to my new laptop. Except that this "new" laptop is older than my old one. But, then again, my old laptop had a non-functioning mouse and keyboard, which meant I had to plug external ones into it. That, and a not-as-reliable-as-I'd-like power supply, meant that my old laptop couldn't really be taken anywhere with any sort of convenience. Thus, despite this new laptop having a weird display that doesn't seem to show colors quite as well as I am accustomed to (it's most noticeable with whites, which means it feels kinda weird to browse FF dot net) and heating up really easily (though it honestly probably just _feels_ that way because I've been using an external mouse and keyboard for so long that I've forgotten how hot laptops can get).  
**

** SO, _anyways_, I've been spending most of my day off this week transferring my files onto this new laptop via my external hard drive and then basically deleting the documents and pictures and junk on my old laptop, which is gonna go to my grandma after a cousin of mine has a chance to run repairs on it.  
**

**On a related note, I keep reaching for the mouse connected to my old laptop while using this one, and that moment before I realize what I'm doing, when there's no response and I'm wondering WHY that's so, is one of the queerest things. It's like looking at your wrist to check the time, only to remember a second later that you haven't worn a wristwatch in _weeks_.  
**

**As for this chapter... Well, honestly, I've had it basically ready as is since yesterday or so, but I've been busy.  
**

**... Dammit, I did it again!  
**

* * *

Karui had to admit. If she had known where objecting to being placed on any sort of guard duty would land her, she would have taken the assignment to watch the Potter kid in a heartbeat.

Instead of being given any sort of interesting work (defined, in Karui's opinion, as anything involving plenty of violence and explosions), she had been left behind at the musty old house by her sensei and teammates. Omoi and Samui were doing alternate shifts protecting Potter and guarding some random ass door somewhere in the Ministry of Magic, only stopping by the headquarters for the occasional nap and meal between shifts. Bee-sensei, meanwhile, had gone off with that Hagrid bloke into some far-off country as an escort on some sort of diplomatic meeting with the giants.

But not Karui.

No, she was stuck at Number Twelve, having been assigned by a chuckling Dumbledore to patrol the house for intruders. Which, she quickly realized, was total BS. Karui didn't know much (anything) about magic, but it was clear to her that Number Twelve Grimmauld Place was about as likely to be infiltrated as the Fourth Raikage's office (which none had attempted in years, ever since the last one to do so had quickly ended up hanging from the balcony of Raikage Tower with most of his insides on the outside).

To make matters worse, after a few days of relative peace during which she had spent most of her time studying those books on the English language (which Samui had ordered-slash-subtly-threatened her into reading), the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix was invaded by Molly Weasley and kin.

Karui had very nearly had a heart attack when she'd seen all that red, and she'd not settled down until she had realized that it was not quite the bloody crimson of the Uzumaki, but more of a fiery orange.

And when Mrs Weasley saw Karui, with her bright red hair, the Kumo kunoichi soon found herself wrapped in a bone-crushing hug that likely would have snapped her spine, had she not had the condition bones of a physical fighter. Still, she nonetheless found herself being deprived of oxygen, so she had desperately squeaked to be let go. Normally, she would have simply broken free, but the person suffocating her (in a _surprisingly tight_ hug) was a middle-aged civilian housewife, who most probably would have snapped like twig if Karui had so much as breathed on her wrong (the freakish strength of the woman's hug notwithstanding).

Thankfully, Molly soon realized that she was all but strangling the young woman, and so let go of her.

And not a second later, Karui was immediately mobbed by a pack of redheads of all shapes and sizes. They swarmed around her, spouting friendly interrogatives and casual expressions of familiarity (such as "Hey, cousin," and "How are you?" and "I didn't know there were any black Weasleys...").

One of them, a muscular, rather handsome young man with an earring that appeared to have been made from the fang of some sort of carnivorous beast, had asked her why she was dressed like a muggle when there were only other wizards around.

She, of course, had responded with a heated, "I am no mugger! I am proud _kumogakure no sato no kunoichi, dattebayo!_" slipping back into her native tongue in her annoyance, and even slipping up and using that verbal tic she'd sworn to never use again.

She still had a little trouble with keeping her Ls and Rs straight, you see.

It had naturally taken a while to sort out that misunderstanding, especially with Karui's admittedly still quite mediocre grasp of English, and somewhere over the course of straightening out the confusion she found herself unofficially adopted as a member of the "Wiizuri" clan.

Of course, Mrs Weasley, who introduced herself as Molly, was appalled at the condition of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place.

Before Karui even knew what was happening, she got drafted by the mighty matron to help "tidy up". The fact that Karui only knew a little English and could only decipher bits and pieces of what the Weasleys said didn't matter.

Mom was a universal language.

* * *

Cleaning Number Twelve Grimmauld Place was, if nothing else, much more interesting than a normal D-Rank. Sure, they were cleaning up an old abandoned house, but it was far from boring. The presence of flesh-eating furniture, garroting draperies, and more magical pests than you could wave a wand at meant that there was rarely a dull moment. So Karui, for all her initial reluctance to do anything so _domestic_, was probably one of the most enthusiastic members of the clean up crew drafted by Molly.

While Ron and Ginny were somewhat reluctant to risk their fingers sorting through the various enchanted (or cursed) artifacts and general magical detritus that cluttered up the shelves and closets and mantels and cabinets of Number Twelve, and Fred and George were more often than not preoccupied with their questionable endeavors, the (one-quarter) Uzumaki and Honorary Weasley was more than happy to risk life and limb disposing of the less than legal, and most certainly dangerous items scattered throughout the old house, to the continued awe and worry of the saner Weasleys.

"I see no what sca'es you," she said to Ron one day as she casually throttled the suddenly animate bust (at least, Ron _hoped_ it was just a bust) of a very ugly goblin that had come to life when they had uncovered it in the musty, cluttered wardrobe they had been checking for boggarts. "Is no very scary."

To illustrate her point, she tightened her grip on the struggling bust's throat, causing it to howl some incredibly foul Gobbledegook invectives at the both of them. Neither one present could actually understand what it was saying, but the intent was obvious.

Ron blanched. "Bloody hell..." he muttered, inching away from the no doubt furious hopefully-just-a-sculpture. "You're not doing a very good of convincing me, mate." He cast a nervous glance back at the pile of junk in the back of the wardrobe, from which they had excavated the swearing statue.

"You ah too a-flayed," Karui criticized. "You need to no be a-flayed. It can't hurt you."

Ron, eying the distressingly sharp teeth of the statue, which it was flashing quite liberally in its attempts to bite the one who was holding it, shivered and shook his head. "No thanks," he responded. "I think I'd rather take my chances helping Ginny clear out the bedrooms upstairs..."

Karui rolled her eyes. "_Scaredy-cat,_" she muttered, clenching her fist and shattering the bust's marble throat.

"Theah," she said loudly enough for him to hear, letting the inert remnants of the grotesque statuary crumble into dust. "_L__on-chan daijōbu?_"

Ron's ears burned bright red. He didn't know what exactly that meant, but he could tell from the redhead's tone that she was patronizing him.

"No!" he snapped testily, "I am _not _a 'dye-joe-boo', whatever that is!"

Karui snorted. "_Lon-chan no baka._" She lightly flicked him on the forehead. "You ah little baby, if that flightens you. Is no dangerous. Is little thing, no scaly. Now go get _burichi_ and scuppah. Help me with scubbing _warudurobu_, okay?"

"Fine," Ron grumbled, secretly glad for any excuse to get away from the terrifying woman.

His mum had to be right daft if she thought that having Karui help with the clean up was a good idea.

**TTFN and R&R!**

* * *

_translation notes:_

_"kumogakure no sato no kunoichi" - female ninja of the village hidden in the clouds_

_"-ttebayo!" - places emphasis on what has been said; somewhat childish, and, according to fanon, variants of this may or may not be common among Uzumaki_

_"-chan" - a childish form of -san, used commonly as term of endearment for younger females and occasionally much younger males  
_

_"daijōbu" - [I'm/it's] okay; OR, in the right context, "[are you/is it] okay?"  
_

_"[x] no baka" - don't pretend you don't know what that means :P  
_

_"burichi" - bleach in Engrish  
_

_"scuppah" - no clue, except that it's what my boss, Ii Ling (no idea if I've spelled that correctly) seems to call steel wool and sponges; most likely a corrupted pronunciation of "scrubber"  
_

_"warudurobu" - wardrobe in Engrish (I think, but I might be wrong)  
_

_Lastly, the chapter title is a pun on/portmanteau of "itachi" (weasel) and "ichizoku" (clan, family)  
_


	18. Insert Dursley Joke Here

**Remember the Name**

A _Naruto _x _Harry Potter_ Crossover

By

EvilFuzzy9

_"The healthy and strong individual is the one who asks for help when he needs it."_

- Rona Barret

* * *

**A/N: You know, I've always been a bit put off by how so many fanfics I've seen treating the Dursleys as spiteful, abusive, irredeemable bastards, but I can't deny that they do not make a very good impression of themselves. Now, I wouldn't go so far as to do something like writing them as regularly **_**beating**_** Harry, but it's nonetheless very difficult to find anything to work with prior to the final books in terms of making the Dursleys something resembling sympathetic.**

**Luckily, I won't be bothering with that. :3**

* * *

In a small village in Surrey, Little Whinging to be specific, there lived a normal, mundane family. They had a normal, mundane house–not too big and fancy, but not too small and plain either–at Number Four Privet Drive, with a fairly healthy lawn and a decently well-tended garden. They had a good-enough car–not too old and junky, but not too new and sleek, either–in the driveway and a generous amount of food in the pantry.

They were the Dursleys–Vernon, Petunia, and their only child Dudley–and they were as respectable a family as any in that idyllic corner of English suburbia. Indeed, the Dursley family was perfectly ordinary and unremarkable in nearly every way.

And I do mean _nearly_. In fact, there was only a single thing that could be considered an abnormality in their family.

And we're not talking about how Vernon looked _remarkably_ like a tusk-less walrus with legs (although the resemblance really _was_ quite uncanny). No, we're talking about their only nephew, Harry Potter.

It was, perhaps, the worst kept secret in Privet Drive that young Harry was a shiftless delinquent attending St. Brutus's Centre for Incurably Criminal Boys; the only child of a pair of drunken miscreants who had gone and gotten themselves killed in a car crash, leaving him in the care of his all-too generous aunt and uncle. Conversely, it was the _best _kept secret in Privet Drive that young Harry was _actually_ a famous young wizard attending the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry; the only child of a pair of virtually sainted war heroes who were killed protecting him from He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, regretfully leaving him in the care of his bitter, magic-hating aunt and uncle.

The Boy-Who-Lived, who became the hero of the Wizarding World at the ripe old age of one year, woke up early that morning. As he always did, he opened the window to let in the post owl that brought him the _Daily Prophet_. He relieved the bird of its burden, slipping some payment into the pouch on its side before shooing it out the window. The Dursleys did not care for anything to do with wizards, and that naturally included their post system. They only barely tolerated Hedwig, as it was, and she was more often out and about hunting for food or carrying letters between Harry and his friends. But what they didn't know couldn't hurt them, and the post owls usually arrived at either dawn or twilight, under the cover of darkness.

Once the mottled brown post owl disappeared into the gloaming sky, Harry unfurled the newspaper and flicked his eyes over the headlines, searching for any news of Voldemort or the Death Eaters. It was a futile exercise, he knew, but Harry persisted stubbornly all the same. The Wizarding World as a whole refused to believe that Voldemort could be back, as nearly everyone had written the magical megalomaniac off as dead around fourteen years ago.

After all, the dead are _dead_. Even in a world of magic and sorcery, the idea of true resurrection, of restoring the dearly (and not-so-dearly) departed to life, was almost entirely left in the realms of myth and religion. People couldn't just rise from the grave and resume their business in the world of the living. Not in real life; not in this day and age.

For such a thing to be possible was about as inconceivable to wizards as it was to muggles. And the idea that, of all the deceased souls to return to this plane of existence, it should be Voldemort who does so... Well, the thought of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named being able to cross the unknowable chasm between life and death on top of everything else was simply too much. No one wanted to believe that. It was too frightening, too horrifying.

And Harry, for all the grumbling he may have done under his breath about stubbornly ignorant masses, could not entirely blame the Wizarding World. Hell, he'd _been there_ when Voldemort had arisen from that bubbling, seething cauldron in all his pasty, serpentine un-glory, and he could hardly believe it was real.

But it _was_ real, and Harry knew it was only a matter of time before the Dark Lord took action, if he hadn't already. But there was no way for him to know. The _Daily Prophet_ could hardly be trusted to have any reliable information, and even if it could, there was no way the editors, who'd had a right field day when he and Dumbledore had claimed that Voldemort was back, would ever run anything about Death Eater activity until it was just too late to ignore.

And that was the crux of the issue, really. Despite his fairly central role in the return of the Dark Lord, Harry was almost completely in the dark. He had no idea what was going on.

But his friends DID.

Oh, sure, they didn't come right out and tell him as much in their letters, but there were hints that they knew something, something he didn't. They were clearly omitting _something_ from their letters. Ron in particular, bless his heart, was not very good at either subtlety or secrecy, and his letters tended to be relatively revealing compared to Hermione's. They didn't actually reveal anything of interest, but there was enough there that Harry could tell that his friend was keeping something from him.

So Harry had tried to subtly pry information from Ron, sending him letters with leading inquiries and seemingly innocent remarks intended to lure the truth from his friend. It had almost seemed like it was working, too, but then Ron's letters started getting briefer and less informative, filled with meaningless niceties and innocent, uninformative anecdotes that completely ignored all his attempts at wheedling information from the other boy. Also, the grammar and spelling in the Weasley's recent letters were much better than normal.

Obviously someone was reading over Ron's letters and coaching him to keep his lips shut tight. And he could hardly expect to get anything from Hermione that she didn't already plan on telling him. Trying to trick her into revealing something when she didn't want to was like trying to con a goblin out of a galleon–in other words, about as painful and unproductive as bashing his head against a reinforced brick wall.

So Harry was reduced to scanning the headlines of the _Daily Prophet_, even if it was only to feel like he was actually doing something. It had gotten to the point where he had recently turned to checking the muggle news for anything that might indicate Death Eater activity–missing persons, unusual murders, _anything_. Unfortunately, his aunt and uncle were as suspicious and distrustful of him as they had ever been. So when he tried to sit down next to his uncle to watch the news, the beefy mustachioed man almost immediately rounded on him and asked what he thought he was doing. He'd replied, perfectly honestly, that he was "Watching the news," but Vernon had snorted at this and shooed him away with something just a few decibels below yelling, telling him that he had no reason to watch the news since it had nothing to do with "his kind".

Harry had reluctantly left well enough alone at this, since he was well acquainted with Vernon's temper and the man DID have something faintly resembling a point, however twisted and distorted by prejudice it might have been. Though he _did_ feel a hint of bitterness that even when he did something so mundane as trying to watch the news, his guardians treated it as something freakish and unnatural. He was sure they wouldn't have said anything like that if _Dudley_ had been the one doing it, but that was just the way things worked at Number Four Privet Drive.

So Harry simply settled for absentmindedly reading an article on housebreaking puffskeins while idly scheming up ways to check up on the news without his aunt and uncle catching him and chasing him off.

At some point while perusing and plotting, his eyes happened to chance upon something setting upon his windowsill. His eyes widened when he realized what it was: a copy of the newspaper.

The _muggle_ newspaper.

Harry frowned, more than a little suspicious of how the periodical had ended up in his room without his knowledge. He could have _sworn _he hadn't seen that post owl dropping off anything was wary of it, and how it might have gotten there, but his curiosity as to the contents was greater than his paranoia. Eventually, his curiosity won out and he grabbed the paper and unrolled it.

Seeing that it really did seem to be nothing more than a regular muggle newspaper, motionless pictures and all, Harry opened it up and began to read.

* * *

Omoi, safely hidden in the bushes, grinned to himself as he heard the telltale rustle of newspaper being handled once more coming from the boy Harry's room. It sounded like Mister Potter had finally noticed his little present.

**TTFN and R&R!**

* * *

_translation notes:_

_none_


	19. Guard Duty Sucks Totally not Filler

**Remember the Name**

A _Naruto _x _Harry Potter_ Crossover

By

EvilFuzzy9

_"Everything in moderation, including moderation."_

- Samuel Clemens

* * *

**A/N: Wasn't originally planning to make this chapter a cliffhanger, but that's how it ended up. Odd, that. *Shrug* Oh well.**

**... Don't really have much else to say about this chapter. I wouldn't call it filler, but not much (**_**at **__**all**_**) happens in it.**

* * *

Samui did not sigh as she stood watch in the shadows, hidden in a hallway within the depths of the Ministry. Nor did she yawn, snort, scratch her bum, or anything else. No, she was perfectly diligent and vigilant–a consummate professional.

Of all the members of Team Samui, she was the one best suited to this kind of delicate covert operation. She was an expert on stealth and infiltration. There were few in the village who could compare with her on that front. So standing guard over that door in the heart of the Department of Mysteries without being caught was well within her field of expertise.

Still, it was not the most interesting job, and Samui occasionally found herself pressed to maintain vigilance. With her other teammates doing assignments of their own and the Order's own manpower being spread dangerously thin, Samui was more often than not forced to pull long, back-to-back night shifts of sentry duty. That, combined with various gofer and scouting assignments during the day, meant she had precious little time to rest. It would get better, she had been assured, once the Order's ranks had been filled out a bit more, but until then the pepper-up potion provided to her by Molly was probably the only reasoning she was still functioning at a reasonable level.

Sure, it had only been a few days so far, but Samui hadn't exactly been running at full capacity when they'd left the Cloud on this mission only a few hours after their previous one. Their last mission had been nothing short of a disaster, and it had taken its toll on them. Team Samui had already been nearly dead on their when their master had shanghaied them into this mission, and Samui was running on fumes.

Thankfully, if her internal clock was accurate (and it almost always was), there were only a few minutes left until the end of her shift, and then all she had to do was sneak out of the Ministry building past early-bird Unspeakables and Ministry workers and meet up with an Order member at a secure location a few blocks away. Hopefully it would be someone fairly agreeable like Arthur, Remus, or Kingsley–or heck even _Tonks _would be fine, provided the girl didn't try to copy her... _appearance_... again.

Samui wasn't really one for making idle talk, but that didn't mean she found the dull buzz of friendly conversation to be unpleasant or anything. She just rarely had anything she felt needed to be contributed to a discussion.

Hearing someone approaching–their footsteps were uneven, the soft, distant tread of heavy shoes on the floor interspersed with a light wooden thunking sound that she could only barely hear–Samui shook herself out of her thoughts and made she sure she was properly concealed. Her subtle, multi-layered concealment technique was one of the best there was, but it would be useless if she forgot herself and let it waver.

Seeing that everything was in order, Samui slipped further into the shadows–more out of ingrained habit than anything else–and prepared herself. If the person coming was an infiltrator–and she was trained to recognize those at a glance–then she would strike fast and hard to incapacitate them as soon as possible. Dumbledore had made it quite clear that he would prefer them to avoid unnecessary bloodshed where at all possible, and not to kill unless presented with no other recourse.

Dead men could tell no tales, after all, and the fact that the Death Eaters had a habit of using a powerful, forbidden compulsion technique–the imperius curse–to enslave innocents to do their bidding meant that an infiltrator was as likely as not to just be a neutral, or even allied, bystander.

That sort of thing left a bad taste in Samui's mouth. The idea that the enemy could, with a single attack, completely subvert a person's will, turning them into nothing more than a glorified puppet. It was utterly terrifying to her a fundamental level, and she had been insistent on learning how to resist it the first chance she could get.

If only the Order members were more cooperative on that front. They really were rather averse to using the spell, it seemed. Though Samui had to admit that the fact it was an Unforgivable–_kinjutsu_–and punishable with immediate imprisonment, trial optional, was honestly a fairly effective deterrent.

It didn't mean she was happy with the lack of resistance practice, however.

The muffled footsteps and muted thunking drew closer, and a dark cloaked, hunched over man came into view. He had a face that seemed misshapen, covered in scars. He had a large, electric blue eye that whirled about in its socket with far more freedom than should have been physically possible, and Samui felt a little sick watching it spin about. She looked down at his feet, and saw that he had a wooden leg–that explained the odd sound.

Then she looked back up to see that his piercing blue eye was staring right at her.

**TTFN and R&R!**

* * *

_translation notes:_

_"kinjutsu" - forbidden art_


	20. The Password is ALWAYS Swordfish

**Remember the Name**

A _Naruto _x _Harry Potter_ Crossover

By

EvilFuzzy9

_"Sincerity is the finest point of communication."_

- Chinese Proverb

* * *

**A/N: This one is a bit short, perhaps, but I think I like it. Also, happy Mother's Day (yesterday)! It was a miserable one for me, 'cause I woke up at half past three with a killer headache and a dreadful cold, and then had to work an extra hour at my job since Mother's Day is basically like one of the busiest days of the year for restaurants (though we were not nearly as busy as would have been expected). **

**Also, also, a few days ago my mom and dad brought home a new puppy. He's a morkie (a mix of yorkshire terrier and something I can't remember that starts with an M), and his name is Sparky. It took us a couple of days to decide on his name, and we only decided on Sparky last night.**

* * *

Samui stared at the man, whose mismatched eyes were fixed onto her own. She could hardly believe he'd seen through her concealment technique so effortlessly, and for a moment she even dared to hope that it was just a coincidence.

That was when he spoke.

"Hmph. So you're their captain, eh?" the man inquired, his voice harsh and gravelly. "I would have expected something considerably harder to see through, considering how highly they speak of you."

Samui, dropping her technique as it would just be wasting chakra to maintain it when the man could see her just fine regardless, stepped out of the shadows. She kept one hand on her tantō, and had the other one at the ready to start forming handseals in case things went sour.

"What does it concern you?" she asked evasively.

"It concerns me plenty," the man snapped gruffly. "This is hardly the place to be talking about such things. Not nearly secure enough here..." he muttered.

Samui eyed him suspiciously. "And just who are you, that it concerns you?" She did not trust him. He was too suspicious, too obviously skilled. Most of the people she had met in the Wizarding World had registered in her subconscious as civilians, with a few exceptions.

This man, however... He had the look and manner of a seasoned campaigner. He carried himself like a fighter. And he was clearly quite perceptive...

Too perceptive.

Samui's instincts screamed at her that she could not trust this man. And she was inclined to agree with them.

"The name's Moody," the man rumbled. "Some call me Mad-Eye. A few even call me Alastor. But _you_," he said, his normal eye narrowing, "_You_ will call me _Sir._"

Samui cocked an eyebrow. "And _why_ would I do that?" she drawled.

"Classified information," the man replied sharply. "It's on a strictly need-to-know basis."

"And I don't need to know." It wasn't voiced as a question.

"No, you don't. Not yet. Now come on, let's get going before someone finds us." The man turned to leave, gesturing for the curvaceous blonde to follow him.

But Samui stood her ground. "No, not yet," she said, her eyes narrowed. "How do I know you're for real, and not a spy?"

Moody grinned. It was not a pretty sight. "Good to see you're so vigilant. You were a bit too cagey, though. It's one thing to act like that here, in the department of mysteries, but you'll want to work on making yourself more inconspicuous. People will get suspicious of _you_ if you act suspicious of _them_," he explained.

"Oh, and just so you know, the password is swordfish," he added as an afterthought.

Samui cocked an eyebrow. "Swordfish?"

Moody shrugged. "It was Weasley's idea."

**TTFN and R&R!**

* * *

_translation notes:_

_none_


	21. Twin Talk is the New 1337sp33k

**Remember the Name**

A _Naruto _x _Harry Potter_ Crossover

By

EvilFuzzy9

_"The informality of family life is a blessed condition that allows us all to become our best while looking our worst."_

- Marge Kennedy

* * *

**A/N: Have you heard of **_**Rock Lee's Springtime of Youth**_**? The **_**Naruto**_** spinoff comedy manga with Lee as the main character? Well, apparently they decided to make it into an anime.**

**Yes, it's just as ridiculous(ly hilarious) as you would expect. **

**Also, Gred and Forge are fun to write, but damned hard to keep under control.  
**

**Also, also, Walburga's rant in this chapter is largely derived from rants of hers in chapters... five and six, I believe, of OoTP.  
**

* * *

Samui fought the urge to gag as the sickly sweet scent of rotting wood filled her nostrils. Number Twelve, despite the best efforts of the Weasleys (plus Karui), still stank _horribly._ Even from the outside, the black-painted, dilapidated manse was the very picture of decay. And even compared to the other houses lining Grimmauld Street, Number Twelve looked dreadful.

Honestly, it was an eyesore and one of the most unpleasant places Samui had ever had to set up camp. She hated having to report back there after every shift, but it was a necessity, and an order besides.

So it was with great reluctance that she was now standing outside of the Black Manor, waiting to be let in. There was a sound like chains being moved coming through the door, but other than that, the wards on the house kept her from hearing anything else from within, no matter how much she strained her ears. That made her uneasy, because she would never know if she was walking into a trap like this.

The door opened, and she was immediately assaulted by the sounds of shrieking and shouting.

"—_products of dirt and vileness! Half-breeds, mutants, freaks_—"

"—_Urusai kuso-baba! Kisama wa_—_!_"

"—_How dare you befoul the house of my fathers with your_—"

"—_Urusai urusai urusai! Kono baba no baka!_"

"—_Stains of dishonor, filthy half-breeds, blood traitors, children of filth...! Begone from this place!_"

"_Ie da__!_"

Samui flinched at the volume of the apparent shouting match. For a portrait, Walburga Black had a damn good set of lungs on her.

Reluctantly following Moody inside, Samui shot a glare at Karui. "_Don't encourage her!_" she snapped once the portrait-based paused in her/its tirade.

"_She started it!_" Karui shot back immaturely, causing Samui to groan and Walburga to redouble her ranting.

Samui shook her head, deciding to head somewhere quieter. It was futile, she knew, since there was no place in the house that Walburga's voice could not reach, but she still wanted to put some distance between her and the bickering pair.

Looking around, she noticed a younger girl with a head of bushy brown hair and a scandalized expression on her face, staring in the direction of Karui and Walburga.

"You new here?" she asked, not remembering seeing the girl before.

The girl, shaken out of her reverie, nodded. "Yes — Yes, I just arrived here recently... In fact, I think I got here not even ten minutes before you did."

"I see," Samui said. "Are you the Granger girl the Weasleys were expecting?"

The girl seemed to blush at this for some reason, before she nodded again. "Yes, I'm Hermione — Hermione Granger."

She held out a hand, and Samui, remembering what she had learned of English customs so far, took it in her own and shook. "Pleased to make your acquaintance," she said politely.

Noticing Hermione shooting a glance over her shoulder, she grinned wryly in spite of herself. "I assume you've met my teammate Karui and our honorable host Walburga?"

"Is Wall-Booger!" Karui corrected automatically from the other end of the hallway, causing Samui to roll her eyes.

"Er, no, I haven't..." Hermione said quietly in answer to Samui's question, not looking very thrilled at the idea of talking to either of the indicated individuals.

"Well, too bad, because you won't get to _now_," said Samui, taking the brunette's hand and dragging her down the hall and up the stairs. "Come on, I imagine the Weasleys will be quite glad to see you."

* * *

"Hermione!" Ron exclaimed, "Bloody hell, mate, it's great to see you again!" He pulled her into a bear hug, causing the brunette to turn an interesting shade of red. "I was starting to go crazy, here, without someone to talk to!"

From over in the corner, two identical redheads affected exaggerated looks of dismay.

"What—" said Fred.

"—is our company—" continued George.

"—not good enough—"

"—for ickle Ronnie-kins?"

"You wound us!"

"You insult us!"

"It's an atrocity!"

"A monstrosity!"

"A crime!"

"A pity!"

"A tragedy!"

"A comedy!"

Ron spluttered, ears red, but he didn't say anything more. Nor did he release Hermione from his hug.

Gred, seeing this, grinned knowingly and turned to Forge.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking, O twin of mine?"

George nodded. "Yes. But where would we find enough gloom treacle to fill the Black Lake?"

Fred shook his head. "No, not that. ...Though if I'm thinking what you're thinking, than that sounds like an excellent idea..."

"Oh, but isn't it?"

"It is indeed."

"And to think that our baby brother is growing up so quickly!"

"Yep. Soon he'll be leaving the nest—"

"—and getting a job—"

"—and getting married—"

"—and giving us tons of nieces and nephews to spoil—"

"—and corrupt—"

"—to drive their dad spare!"

The twins laughed.

"Oh, it'll be grand!" said Fred, clapping a bemused, befuddled Ron on the shoulder.

"Take care of our brother, won't you?" George teased Hermione, causing the girl to sputter indignantly, futilely insisting that there was no such relationship between her and Ron.

**TTFN and R&R!**

* * *

_translation notes:_

_"urusai" - shut up_

_"baba" - old woman_

_"baka" - fool_

_"kisama" - "you", very rude and disrespectful_

_"ie" - no  
_


	22. Lemonade and Firewhiskey

**Remember the Name**

A _Naruto _x _Harry Potter_ Crossover

By

EvilFuzzy9

_"If you are never scared, embarrassed or hurt, it means you never take chances."_

- Julia Soul

* * *

**A/N: My younger brother, yesterday, brought over a bag filled with DVDs. They were all anime (mostly DBZ movies, along with a **_**Street Fighter **__**Alpha**__**: The Movie**_** and **_**Tenchi Muyo! [Ryo Ohki]:**__**The Complete Series**_** [a misleading title, really]), and he figured I'd like 'em. Dunno where he got 'em, though. I already watched one of them the night he brought 'em over –** _**Broly: The Legendary Super Saiyan**_**, and I've watched two more since, **_**Cooler's Revenge**_** and **_**The Return of Cooler**_**, as well as a bit of the first disc of TM!RO:tCS**_**.**_

**Also, I'm experimenting with a slight change in style. More in the formatting than the actual writing, mind you, but the difference is still there.  
**

* * *

Omoi sighed contentedly as he sipped on a glass of lemonade, courtesy of Arabella Figg. It was hot out, and he had only just been relieved of his watch by Hestia-san.

It had been an unremarkable shift, much like his last three. Harry's routine was fairly predictable, and aside from the occasional stroll through Little Whinging, the Potter boy did not go out much. It was a trivial matter to keep an eye on him, and the wards on Number Four Privet Drive were so thoroughly extensive that even Omoi had to admit that the odds of anything bad happening to the boy were phenomenally low – Harry was more likely to be struck thrice by lightning in rapid succession than he was to be attacked by any sort of dark wizard while dwelling in Privet Drive.

Omoi was far from an expert on seals and barriers – that was more Karui and Bee-sensei's territory – but he could _feel _the subtle thrum of magic that was woven around the Dursley house every time he crossed the boundary, and if he stared long enough he could even make out the vague outlines of arcane Celestial runes and infinitely complex fractal formulas. It made his head hurt just to look at it.

There was no doubt that whoever set up those wards knew enough about the esoteric hermetic arts to give even an Uzumaki grandmaster a run for their money, let alone an amateur hobbyist like himself. There was little chance that anyone would be able to penetrate those wards without being found out, and Order reinforcements were only ever a floo or an apparation away.

And really, aside from the occasional row between Harry and his Aunt and Uncle, nothing interesting ever happened. Which was just fine with Omoi, really, because interesting occurrences usually meant Bad News. A boring assignment was a safe assignment, after all.

As far as Omoi was concerned, the fact that there had been no incidents thus far was a godsend. Others might call him paranoid or neurotic, but Omoi had often noted a distinct trend of supposedly easy, routine assignments quickly devolving from "everything's okay" to "oh god everything's on fire".

Murphy's Law was something he was very familiar with.

But still, he supposed, at least it wasn't a C-Rank.

* * *

Samui cleared her throat as she stepped into basement kitchen. She had left Ms. Granger behind with her friends so they could play catch up, and she had pulled Karui away from her argument with Walburga's portrait long enough to help tug the curtains back over it before heading down to the Order's meeting place.

"Good morning, Mr. Weasley," she said to the pony-tailed Bill Weasley, "And good morning to Mr. Fletcher, Mr. Black, and Mr. Lupin, as well."

Mundungus was too busy looking over an ugly, skull-shaped pendant to bother with a response beyond a grunt. Lupin, however, nodded amicably in greeting, looking as careworn as ever, and Sirius waved Samui in, clearing a map off the table to make room for a bottle of firewhiskey and a plate of stale biscuits.

"Breakfast," he explained at Samui's questioning look. "Molly's gone out to market to restock on cleaning supplies, and there's no telling when she might get back."

Samui cocked an eyebrow. "What, is she the only one here who can cook?"

"You mean without giving half the Order food poisoning?" said Bill. "Yes, yes she is." He then paused, looking thoughtful for a second. "...Well, okay, I guess there's also Kreacher, but I don't think Sirius would trust him to not simply poison us outright."

Sirius snorted and rolled his eyes. "He's a Black family house elf, and my mother's elf besides. No recipe of his would be complete without a teaspoon or six of arsenic."

Lupin shook his head. "I still say you shouldn't be so quick to dismiss him. If you treated him better..."

Sirius snorted. "Please, don't start on that again. He hates my guts, and I hate his. That's the way it is, and both of us are just fine with this arrangement."

Bill frowned, shaking his head. "I don't know. Mum has always wanted a house elf, and Kreacher belongs to you. You're lucky to have him, I'd say."

"Bah! If she wants an elf, she can have him," Sirius sniffed. "Free of charge."

Bill's ears turned red. "Well, it's — er — not like she wants_ him_, specifically — and he _is _yours, you know — it's just — um — er —"

"— that he's no good, as a house elf, right?" said Sirius.

"N-no!" Bill spluttered. "Not like that — it's not like that! He's just — just —"

"Completely barmy?" Sirius supplied.

Bill sighed. "... _Yeah_... more or less," he admitted. "... But don't tell my mum I said that, now! She'd have me hung out to dry, if she knew. She wouldn't dare say anything bad about him, herself, but it's clear she doesn't really trust him to do any sort of housework..."

Samui idly nibbled at one of the less stale biscuits as she listened to the conversation. She didn't have any sort of really significant first hand experience with servants, human or otherwise, and the concept of house elves was still a bit much for her to grasp. So she sat and listened and waited for the others to arrive, pondering all the while on whether or not they had any of that jam left, and if so whether it would go well with the small glass of firewhiskey she had poured for herself.

**TTFN and R&R!**

* * *

_translation notes:_

_none_


	23. Light and Heavy

**Remember the Name**

A _Naruto _x _Harry Potter_ Crossover

By

EvilFuzzy9

_"Getting together with old friends brings new adventures."_

- Amit Chaudhuri

* * *

**A/N: I finally managed to do an extended scene with Omoi, somewhere between four and five pages in WordPad of dialogue between him Karui. And considering that these chapters are, if I figure it right, on average somewhere between three to five or so pages long (Times New Roman, font size 12, with 1.15 spacing and 10 point spaces after paragraphs in WordPad), that's pretty decent. **

* * *

Sitting on a bench in a dusty room, surrounded by decades old winebottles, two figures were playing catch up after nearly a week of little to no interaction.

"_So how'd it go, Omoi?_" said the girl, speaking in their native tongue.

She was a black, short-haired redhead, wearing a white bandanna with a thin, rectangular metal plate over the forehead. The plate was engraved with the image of a stylized, minimalistic cloud. She was dressed in witch casuals borrowed from (read: foisted onto her by) Ginevra Weasley, who seemed to have taken to her as the older sister she'd never had, and who had insisted that she shouldn't be wearing the same thing day in and day out, even if they were spending most of their time cleaning.

"_Eh, not too bad. Nothing much happened, but then that means we're doing our job right, wouldn't you say?_" the young man replied.

He was also black, but his hair was white and spiky, though short. He wore a white headband, which had a metal plate on the forehead with the same design engraved into it as the girl's one. He was dressed in his standard mission outfit, dark clothes and white, single-shoulder, Cloud Village standard flak jacket.

The girl snorted.

"_I wouldn't know. The old coot hasn't given me any real assignments._"

Omoi smirked at this.

"_And don't _you _sound bitter_," he remarked wryly.

"_Tch._ _That old fart doesn't trust me. He doesn't want me outside. Thinks I'll blow our cover, or something stupid like that._"

"_No surprise there,_" Omoi said with a nonchalant shrug. "_You aren't exactly subtle, Karui._"

Karui glowered at her teammate. "_You too? _Mer — lin's — balls," she said, slowly and carefully enunciating each syllable of the vulgar oath to make sure her tongue formed the sounds correctly, "_even my own teammates want me to stay cooped up in this miserable hole!_" she opined.

Omoi rolled his eyes. "_I take it Samui told you something similar, then?_"

Karui nodded tersely, still giving Omoi the stinkeye. "_Un. I saw her not too long ago _–_ maybe half an hour or so _–_ on her way to the kitchen to make a report. She said the exact same thing you did, and that I should 'just be patient'. Bah!_"

Omoi shrugged again. "_Hey, don't be like that. It's good advice, and you know it._"

"_Doesn't mean I like being told that. Especially not when I'm the only one here who's not doing anything important!_"

Omoi gave her a hard look that was ruined by the everpresent lollipop in his mouth. "_You know better than to think something like that. The Order needs good, strong fighters on standby, fresh and ready to go at moment's notice. Fighters like you and Black-dono._"

Karui grimaced. "_Don't refer to him so respectfully. Doesn't sound right, you talking like an old man._"

"_Since when has respectful obeisance been the sole province of old men, Karui-chan?_"

Karui glared at him. "_Now you're just doing it to bug me._"

"_Maybe,_" Omoi said with a grin. "_I prefer to think of it as reclaiming our noble language, myself._"

"_Bastard._"

Omoi simply chuckled. "_Maybe just a little. But still, I should probably report in as well._" He got up of the bench and made to leave, but then paused and turned back to face Karui for a moment. "_Say, do you know if Samui's still here, then?_"

"_Probably,_" Karui muttered. "_She said she might have a day or so before her next assignment. Dunno why, usually she'd jump right back into action._"

Omoi frowned thoughtfully. "_Huh. Actually, now that you mention it, I seem to recall her talking about training in Anti-Death Eater tactics the last time I saw her..._"

"_That sounds like her, alright,_" said Karui. "_It DOES sound like a good idea, though..._"

"_You think so?_"

Karui nodded.

"_Oh, yeah, definitely. Cleaning is fine, but it's hardly a proper work out. You know, I haven't even had a chance to practice my kenjutsu since we got here, and all the rooms with enough space to do my kata are either cluttered with junk or already in use for something else. I need a serious workout – I can't let myself fall out of shape, if I ever want to move on to the more advanced techniques..._"

Omoi eyed her thoughtfully. "_So you're thinking of going through with it, then? You actually want to study __That__ Style...?_"

Karui flushed. "_Er, yeah. I mean, I don't really have your talent for streaming chakra through weapons, or Samui's skill with genjutsu or ninjutsu. I don't have the raw strength or speed to go very far with Sensei's taijutsu lessons, either, and I'm not good enough with the lightning armor technique to boost my reflexes._"

Omoi said nothing. Karui was not one to talk about her weaknesses if she could avoid it, and he at least had enough tact to let her say her piece in peace.

"_Let's face it,_" Karui said with a sigh. "_Right now, in any sort of serious fight I'm our team's weak link. And we're going to be facing enemies like we've never fought before. I need to get stronger. And the way I figure, while I'm not very good with the standard Cloud Style, I might have more luck with a school of swordfighting a little... closer to home._"

Omoi eyed her thoughtfully. "_Hmmm... Well, if that's what you really think, then why don't you try studying some sealing, too? I mean, I know it's a sore spot for you!_" he added hastily,"_And I know you hate being pigeon-holed like that, but you've got a real talent for it! You shouldn't let it all go to waste over a grudge._"

"_It's not a grudge!_" Karui snapped. "_It's... just... I don't — uh — don't want to — um — you know — er... ... ... well, it's complicated,_" she finished lamely, cheeks tinged a faint pink.

Omoi nodded slowly, patting his friend and comrade on the shoulder. "_Yeah,_" he said, "_I know what you mean... I know exactly what you mean..._"

**TTFN and R&R!**

* * *

_translation notes:_

_"un" - a monosyllabic affirmative_


	24. Shipping is Like Politics

**Remember the Name**

A _Naruto _x _Harry Potter_ Crossover

By

EvilFuzzy9

_"Genius is more work than just being a genius."_

__- Source Unknown

* * *

**A/N: This chapter has some more Ron/Hermione shippiness (what's the proper portmanteau for that? Romione? RW/HG?), because let's face it: I've been reading these books since I was a kid, and I've been shipping the two of them together before I even understood what shipping was. I'm too damn set in my ways to really seriously pair Hermione or Ron with anyone else, AND they're a canon pairing, married with children in the epilogue, so my childhood shipping, in this instance, was perfectly vindicated. **

**Plus they're just **_**so cute**_** together **❤

**This chapter is about nearly twice the length of the last few. I didn't mean to have it so long, at first, but eh. Monday's my day off, and I've got nothing else going on, so might as well make it a double feature, eh what? Haha~ **

**Also, this chapter marks the one month anniversary of this fic.  
**

* * *

"So, Ron," said Hermione, plopping down on the end of his bed. "What have you been doing so far this summer?"

The two of them were in Ron's room at Number Twelve, having managed to finally get away from the twins and their teasing.

Ron, looking at his best (female) friend dressed in her muggle casuals and trying very hard to keep his mind from wandering to what she might look under them, was _acutely_ aware of the fact that they were alone.

The two of them.

_In his room._

Doing his best to breathe slowly, feeling his ears burning, he answered with a smooth, "Oh... N-not much..."

"Really?" Hermione looked at him curiously. "But this is the new headquarters of the Order of the Pheonix, isn't it? I've read all about them – at least, as much as I could find, which honestly wasn't much..."

She looked a little uneasy, and she was almost talking too fast for Ron to follow.

"Er, well... yeah, I suppose," Ron answered, scratching his ear nervously. "But Mum, well she's dead set against any of us having anything to do with the Order. She says we're not ready – wouldn't even let Fred and George join, and _they're _of age!"

He shook his head. "It's frustrating, being so close to everything that's happening but not allowed to do anything. She's been having us clean the house top to bottom just to get us out of the way, and let me tell you, it's been a right nightmare, it has!"

Hermione giggled a little at this. "Oh, Ron. A little hard work never hurt anyone, and it can't be _too_ bad. I mean, I know the place looks _filthy_, but it can't be that bad."

Ron shook his head. "Maybe, but I'm not sure if it's really safe, here... I mean, the Blacks were about as Dark as a family could get, and we've found some pretty suspicious stuff while cleaning... I keep telling Karui that she should be more careful, but she never listens."

Hermione frowned. "Karui?"

"One of the people staying here. Mum's pretty much adopted her, and she's been helping out with the clean up. She's terrifying, really. Crazy strong and tough. _I've seen her crush rock with her bare hands!_ Fred and George reckon she must drink Re'em blood or something, but that's supposed to only work for a short time, and it's really rare to boot, so me and Ginny think —"

"— Ginny and _I_," Hermione corrected automatically.

"—_ so me and Ginny_," Ron repeated stubbornly, causing Hermione to roll her eyes, "think she must be part troll or something – she doesn't look like it, but Ginny thinks it's possible. And anyways, as I was saying before, I keep telling Karui to be more careful, because she doesn't seem to understand just how dangerous dark artifacts can be —"

Hermione visibly paled at this, realizing that Ron might not have been exaggerating about the "pretty suspicious stuff" after all, and looking clearly upset at the thought of being under the same roof as aforementioned "stuff".

"— but she never listens, and she keeps on sticking her hands everywhere. I swear, I don't know _how_ many times I've seen her almost lose a finger, and every day I have to drag her to Mum or one of the other Order members to have her healed or uncursed." He sighed longsufferingly, shaking his head. "Worst part is, Karui never even seems to _care_ about her injuries. I've seen her bleeding like a faucet from six different gashes on her arm and acting like it was just a paper-cut. She's too bloody stubborn for her own good."

That last bit was muttered under his breath as he rubbed at a cluster of lumpy hematomata hidden under his fiery hair.

"This Karui sounds like she's quite a handful," Hermione agreed. "Is she one of the Order members?"

Ron shrugged. "I dunno. I mean, I reckon she _must_ be, because why else would she be here, you know? But I don't think she's left the house ONCE since we got here, and I can't imagine she's under house arrest like Sirius..."

"I highly doubt Sirius is under _house arrest_, Ron," said Hermione. "He just can't afford to be out in the open right now. He _is _still a wanted criminal, as far as the Ministry is concerned."

Ron scrunched up his nose at that, as if he had just whiffed a particularly nasty smell. "_Bugger_ the Ministry," he spat, "They can't do a single bloody thing right. A bunch of useless pigs in wigs wallowing in their own shite, that's all they are." he said bitterly.

Hermione winced. "_Language_, Ron," she chided, but her heart wasn't in it. She honestly could not help but agree with his assessment of the average (in)competence of their governing officials.

"It really is a disgrace, what they're doing to Harry's name," Ron whispered morosely. "And Dumbledore's, too. Have you heard they're talking about demoting him from Head Mugwump of the Wizengamot? He's already been all but kicked out of the ICW, according to Dad. Practically the entire Wizarding World is treating him like a laughing stock."

Hermione sniffed. "It's insulting, really, the way they're treating him! The most brilliant wizard of our time, maybe the greatest since _Merlin_, and they're acting like he's just some senile old invalid. It's a _travesty!_"she railed.

"Yeah," Ron agreed. "It's something right awful. You know, there's even been talk of taking away his Order of Merlin First Class?"

"Dreadful," Hermione moaned, "Simply _sickening._"

"I know," Ron murmured grimly. "They're like vultures."

* * *

"Hey, Samui, how's it going?"

Samui looked up from a map she had been going over with Bill and Remus at the cluttered dining table in the basement kitchen. The map in question was covered in numerous colorful pen marks denoting patrol routes and points of interest and other information that might be of some strategic value. Sirius, who was nursing a glass of Old Ogden's, grinned at the newcomer.

It was Omoi.

"It's going about as well as you'd expect," said Samui in response to the question.

Omoi scratched his chin. "... That bad, huh?"

Sirius snorted a laugh at this, and Remus smiled weakly.

"No, just boring," Bill corrected.

Omoi cocked an eyebrow at this. "Boring? Well, that's good. The longer we go with nothing big happening, the more time we have to prepare."

He then paused, frowning. "...Unless... unless, of course, it's all just a ploy to get us to drop our guard... In that case, we'd want to step up security. ...Unless... unless that's what they _want_ us to do... Yeah, they'll wait for us to spread our forces too thin and tire ourselves out... and then... and then they'll... or... or maybe..."

Sirius laughed. "Hey, now, calm down. There's no point in worrying about possibilities, not if you're going to drive yourself sick from anxiety."

He got up and clapped Omoi on the shoulder, pulling him over to the table.

"Come, sit, have a drink!" he declared with exaggerated cheer. "Relax, my friend, I insist! It wouldn't do to give yourself a heart attack over nothing," he said, emptying the last of his bottle of firewhiskey into a grimy crystal goblet. "Here." He held the goblet up, offering it to Omoi. "_Drink,_" he commanded, his cheeks slightly flushed.

Reluctantly, Omoi took the proffered cup and quaffed it in one gulp. It burned on the way down, heating up his insides as it traveled down his throat. "Ah...!" he gasped, tears in his eyes as he felt the warmth settle in his stomach before spreading throughout his entire body. "That's some strong stuff...!"

"The strongest," Lupin remarked wryly, nibbling at a dry, stale biscuit.

Omoi, feeling dizzy, staggered and stumbled into a chair at the table. He leaned back as he felt his head spin. "Fast..." he murmured, feeling his stomach lurch. "I think I... I'm already..."

He gave a dry heave. He was rather pale, save for his cheeks, which were darkly flushed. His eyes were swirling and steam was pouring out his ears.

"That happened to me on my first time, too," Bill commented, before casting a meaningful glance at Samui. He reached over and a hand on Omoi's shoulder, steadying him in the chair to keep him from toppling over. "The trick is to not drink it all at once."

Omoi nodded weakly, staring up at the ceiling. "I think... I think I'll try to remember that... for next time..." he groaned.

Samui got up and walked around the table to stand behind her teammate.

"_This brings back memories,_" she remarked conversationally, whispering to him in Japanese as she leaned over the back of his chair to look him in the eye. Her cleavage was dangerously close to swallowing up Omoi's head as she rubbed his shoulders comfortingly. "_It's just like the first time sensei took us out drinking after the Chūnin exams. Remember that?_"

Omoi gulped nervously at Samui's proximity to him, even as the rest of the room seemed to melt away.

"_Yeah,_" he said slowly, smiling at the recollection. "_I remember... You were the only one of us to actually get promoted, but sensei still insisted that we all deserved to have some celebratory sake._"

"_Do you remember where he took us?_" said Samui as she worked on his shoulders, leaning closer.

Omoi nodded, feeling his stomach start to settle. "_That karaoke place, right? Yeah, I remember. It was open mic night at the time, wasn't it?_"

"_It was,_" Samui said, pausing to rest her chin on her teammate's head. "_By the time our drinks arrived, Sensei had completely emptied the place with his singing._"

Omoi chuckled. "_I remember that... People were getting stuck in the door as they evacuated the place, but Sensei never noticed a thing. He was too wrapped up in his enka rap._"

Samui smiled wanly, breathing in the scent of Omoi's hair as she pressed closer into him, her head buzzing with a pleasant numbness. "_He has a real talent for that, doesn't he? Not noticing things, I mean._"

"_Mm-hm,_" Omoi hummed in response. "_He didn't so much bat an eye when you and Karui crawled into my lap and started making out. Haha!_" he chortled, "_Man, we couldn't hold our liquor to save our lives, back then._"

Samui blushed, her face growing hot. "_Don't remind me..._" she muttered. "_God, that was mortifying._"

"_Oh?_" said Omoi. "_That's funny, because as I remember it, you and Karui looked like you were pretty into it, at the time. You even invited me to join in and make your twosome a threesome, as I recall..._"

"_And wasn't that about when Karui puked in your hair?_" Samui reminded him.

Omoi grimaced at that recollection. "_Yeah. Ugh, that was gross. I felt rather like puking, myself, after that._"

"_And you did,_" said Samui. "_Right down my blouse, if I remember correctly_."

Omoi laughed. "_Seriously? Man, I must've been completely wasted by then, because I don't remember THAT at all._"

"_That might have more to do with the concussion I gave you for that, actually..._" Samui muttered somewhat sheepishly.

Omoi blinked. "_So that's why my hangover the next morning felt so horrible._" He rubbed his head, mindful not to disturb Samui, whose face was buried in his hair and whose arms were draped over his torso. "_I nearly swore off drinking altogether because of it._"

"_I'm not surprised,_" Samui mused. "_Karui wouldn't even go near a bar for almost a month, afterwards, and my brother was so insufferable that I almost became a teetotaler, myself._"

"_Heh. Man, those were the days,_" Omoi said with a sigh. "_We were such —_"

Whatever they were, he didn't get a chance to say, because he was interrupted in mid-sentence by a tinkling, merry laugh. He and Samui gave a start, suddenly remembering that they weren't the only ones in the room.

Looking up, they saw Dumbledore looking at them with twinkling eyes. He was joined by several other recently arrived Order Members, chief among whom were a cooing Molly, a winking Tonks, and a moody Moody.

"Well, now, Omoi-san, Samui-san. As interesting as tales of your youthful misadventures are," said Dumbledore, smiling at the pair, "I'm afraid that we have some rather more important matters to attend to. I hope you understand," he said cheerfully.

Samui and Omoi blushed furiously, quickly moving away from each other. It was an embarrassing moment, and to their dying day, both would blame the firewhiskey.

Karui would have a field day with this, when she found out. Of that there was no doubt.

**TTFN and R&R!**

* * *

_translation notes:_

_none_


	25. Idle Chat

**Remember the Name**

A _Naruto _x _Harry Potter_ Crossover

By

EvilFuzzy9

_"To conquer your flaws, you must first accept them."_

- Fortune Cookie

* * *

**A/N: Bleh, haven't been writing much consistently these past few days. I've been either too busy or too tired in the morning, and I'm almost never in the mood to write after work. The fact that I've been binging (bingeing?) on_ Tenchi Muyo!_ lately as well means I've not much time for writing at the moment.  
**

**There's not much of substance in this chapter, aside from some not-strictly-canon exposition on Ministry of Magic and DMLE politics courtesy of a certain metamorphmagus. But maybe we'll actually be able to start on some actual OoTP content in a few chapters, depending on how much more inspiration I get for... certain things.  
**

* * *

Nymphadora Tonks, junior auror, took a seat next to Samui as the meeting began. Her hair was lime green today, with a streak of purple going down one side.

"Wotcher, Samui," she whispered, winking at the blonde. "Pleasant surprise, running into you. I would have thought you'd be out on some mission or other."

"Likewise," Samui returned with a polite nod.

Tonks chuckled. "Ah, yeah. Director Bones is a regular slave driver. I don't think I've had a full night's sleep since I finished my auror training, with how hard she's been working us."

Samui looked at Tonks curiously. "I thought it was the official stance of the Ministry of Magic that there is no _'Dark Thingy'_," she drawled.

Tonks stifled a snort.

"Well, _sure_," she said, "but Sirius Black is still considered a criminal by the Ministry, you know." She leaned in closer to whisper conspiratorially into Samui's ear. "And just between you and me, Madame Bones isn't exactly content with the way the rest of the Ministry has been handling Dumbledore's claims of Voldemort's revival. Says that they should be taking the possibility seriously, and investigating the matter more thoroughly."

Samui nodded approvingly.

"The Bones family suffered a lot of losses in the last war, at the hands of the Death Eaters, and the Director has never taken kindly to the fact that so many of them got off on technicalities or by claiming to have been under the Imperius Curse. She's a damn good witch, Madame Bones is, and one of the best aurors since Mad-Eye over there —" (she pointed at Moody, who was discussing something under his breath with Dumbledore) "— if the old vets are to be believed."

Samui frowned. "You know him, then?" she asked, indicating the grizzled ex-auror.

"Not personally, no," Tonks said, shaking her head, "but I know _of_ him. Old Mad-Eye Moody, who was personally responsible for the captures of something like half of the Death Eaters currently sitting in Azkaban. He's a legend in the DMLE – he worked as an auror for most of his adult life before retiring a little over a year ago. I've heard all kinds of stories about him, from my seniors. Practically everyone who's ever worked with him on a case has had nothing but praise for his abilities. 'An auror among aurors,' they called him. The best in living memory."

Samui blinked. "...Cool," she muttered to herself, "so he's that big a deal, huh..." Louder, so Tonks could hear her, she said, "He's trustworthy, then?"

Tonks shrugged. "He's not a Death Eater, if that's what you're asking. Practically nobody hates their sort more than he does... It might be a bit of an exaggeration, but even most 'former' Death Eaters still get nervous around him. Not many people can claim that sort of reputation, you know."

"I see..." Samui said slowly, eying Moody appraisingly, "Thank you, Auror Tonks. I appreciate it."

"Oh, don't be so formal," Tonks insisted, lightly clapping the blonde on the shoulder. "We're all friends here..." she said, shooting a glance around the table. "Well, more or less," she added in a sour tone as her eyes alighted upon Severus Snape, who was dressed all in black.

Samui smirked. She could understand Tonks's sentiment. Snape hardly went out of his way to endear himself to the other Order members, and in fact he was downright unpleasant. Nobody could really claim him as a friend, even if he _was_ fighting on their side, and most people seemed to strongly dislike him personally, if not professionally. Even Samui and her team were not safe from Snape's snide criticisms, and none of them took to kindly to his derision.

Though to be fair, he was probably still a bit sore over the broken nose Karui had given him.

"_Ohayō_," came the voice of the aforementioned kunoichi.

Well, speak of the devil.

"_Karui,_" Samui nodded. "_Genki desu ka?_"

"_Genki dayo,_" Karui replied flippantly, before turning to look at Omoi. "_Yo, Omoi_."

"Hey, Karui," Omoi greeted in English, causing the redhead to scowl. "What? You'll never get any better if you don't practice," he told her.

Karui's scowl deepened, and she called him a very rude word.

Samui blinked.

"Well," she said after a moment's thought, ignoring the scandalized looks of some of the more sensitive Order members, "you definitely have your swears down."

Omoi chuckled. "Maybe, but can she use it in a sentence?" he said wryly.

Karui snarled and proceeded to do just that, sprinkling in a number of invectives and emphasizing her statement with some incredibly vulgar gestures.

"... ... ... She's good," said Sirius appreciatively. "_Very_ good. Eh, Remus?"

He elbowed his friend, who was looking a bit pink.

Lupin coughed nervously. "Yes — er — well, _yes_. Yes, she is," he said.

He then shrank under a glare from Mrs. Weasley.

"...But a young lady shouldn't be talking like that!" he hastily added for Molly's benefit.

Mrs. Weasley nodded. "Yes, Karui, dear. Lupin is quite right." She adopted a lecturing tone. "You simply _must_ learn to talk like a proper lady, none of this swearing nonsense!" She glowered at the Honorary Weasley.

Karui, a fearless kunoichi of the Hidden Cloud who had faced some of the worst sorts of ninja and bandits and murderers and rapists produced by the Elemental Nation, shrank under the withering glare of the Weasley matriarch.

"Y-yes'm," she whimpered.

**TTFN and R&R!**

* * *

_translation notes:_

_"genki desu ka?" - somewhere along the lines of "how are you doing?", I believe_

_"genki dayo" - "I'm fine"_


	26. A Necessary Weasley

**Remember the Name**

A _Naruto _x _Harry Potter_ Crossover

By

EvilFuzzy9

_"Facts are cheap, information is plentiful – knowledge is precious."_

**- **Michael E. Angier

* * *

**A/N: You know, I'd reread some of the earlier Harry Potter books fairly recently, and I'd forgotten how... **_**giggly**_**... Hermione could be when she was younger. Similarly, in contrast with how... unintelligent Ron is generally portrayed as being, in the books, especially the earlier ones where Hermione and Harry are still getting used to the magical world, he actually shows a decent bit of knowledge about a lot of things, particularly in relation to curses and magical artifacts **–** he may not be very book smart or particularly skilled in any branch of magic, but he clearly knows his stuff, and consistently shows a greater understanding than most characters of the dangers of magical artifacts and dark magic.**

* * *

As the meeting of the Order of the Phoenix commenced in the basement kitchen of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, two veteran troublemakers were nervously trying to get close enough to the door to hear what was being said without actually being caught eavesdropping.

Surprisingly, the troublemakers in question were NOT the Weasley twins, Fred and George. No, they were Ron and Hermione, two thirds of Hogwarts' "Golden Trio".

"Can you hear what's going on?" Ron asked Hermione as he leaned over the landing next to her.

"No," Hermione said, shaking her head. "Not a thing."

Ron scowled. "Bloody hell," he grumbled, glaring at the kitchen door. "This is annoying. Are you sure we can't get any closer than this?"

Hermione shook her head. "Not without making it obvious what we're doing, and our current position is suspicious enough as it is."

She sighed, leaning back against the stairs. "It's hopeless, really. We'll never get any information like this."

"Yeah..." Ron said, nodding his head in agreement, "you're right. This isn't working." He swore under his breath, causing Hermione to give him a Look. "We need a better plan than this," he agreed, ignoring his friend's petty glare.

Hermione gave a huff, but she nodded at his conclusion nonetheless. "You're right of course, about us needing a different plan. But what will we do? What _can_ we do?" She sighed. "Oh, if only there were some spell we could use to listen in on them," she grumbled, "but if such a thing exists, _I've_ never heard of it."

Ron chuckled. "Heh, if _you_ of all people haven't heard of a spell, then it probably just doesn't exist," he teased lightly.

"Oh, that's not true," Hermione insisted, though her cheeks were pink and the corners of her lips were curved up in a smile. "There could be any number of such spells or charms that I've simply never come across, and I also know almost nothing about the Dark Arts aside from what could be inferred from our Defense Against the Dark Arts classes, and that isn't very much at all."

Ron shrugged. "Well, dark magic is out of the question," he said adamantly. "Dad's told us all sorts of stuff about the darker magic he's found put on muggle things by Death Eaters and their sort, and most Dark spells are stuff that no sane person would cast. A lot of dark magic requires some sort of price, he's said, and those prices are never very nice."

He paused, shivering. He looked peakish. "... it's nasty stuff," he continued at last. "Not the kind of thing you or me would want to get mixed up in, especially not for something like this."

Hermione nodded, smiling softly at Ron. "Well, of course," she said. "I'd never want to dabble in such deplorable arts, either. I was only making a point, you know," she added, giggling.

Ron flushed. "Er — yeah, I knew that," he said hastily, looking abashed.

Hermione rolled her eyes, playfully shoving Ron. "Oh, don't be like that. I thought it was sweet. But come on, we should go now. It wouldn't be good if we were caught here," she added, looking a little nervous at the thought of staying any longer at the scene of their foiled eavesdropping.

She then paused, holding out her hand for Ron to grab. He took it, and she led them back up the stairs.

Turning her head slightly to address Ron as they approached the second floor landing, Hermione then commented, "And really, I thought your little speech was rather impressive. You clearly have some very strong feelings about the Dark Arts... and it sounds like you're rather knowledgeable about them – at least, you more than any of the other Gryffindors in our year."

She eyed him appraisingly over her shoulder, as if she were seeing him for the first time in ages.

Ron's blush returned in full force, and he let go of Hermione's hand to scratch his cheek nervously. "I-I don't know that much," he weakly insisted as they walked aimlessly through the second floor hallway, which was still thick with dust and traces or mold even after nearly a week of intensive decontamination.

A portrait of a severe looking, balding man with a thin black mustache and a high white collar glowered disapprovingly down a prominent, beaklike nose at the pair as they walked past. The painted man toyed with a bloody, wickedly curved and serrated dagger as he grumbled under his breath about blood-traitors with no appreciation for proper magic.

Hermione shot the portrait in question a hooded glare, her eyes seeming to glint red as she curled her lips. At that moment, to the man in the painting, Hermione looked more like a dangerously pissed off yakuza than a fifteen something schoolgirl as she radiated a nearly palpable aura of 'STFU or _die_'. The portrait wisely shut his mouth and retreated to the painting next door of a rabid quintaped locked in a mexican standoff with a chimera, a manticore, and a werewolf, where he would be comparatively safe.

Hermione, that nuisance dealt with, smiled brightly, instantly cheering back up and returning her attention to Ron.

"You should give yourself more credit," she told him, shaking her head. "It's obvious that it's something you feel strongly about, and I will gladly admit that you seem to know more about such things than I do."

Ron shook his head, his ears bright red. "That's just because of my dad," he insisted. "He has to deal with all kinds of magic in his job, and some of it is pretty dark... Of course I would have picked up a bit from him."

"Well of course," Hermione said as if this was the most obvious thing in the world, "You had to learn those things from _somewhere._ But the fact of the matter is, of the three of us – you, Harry, and myself – the one with the most knowledge about such things is _you_, Ron... Honestly, if you were to seriously apply yourself, you could..." she trailed off, staring into the distance.

Ron frowned. "I could _what_, 'Mione?" he asked her, after a moment passed with no more from her.

Hermione did not answer him. Her eyes were wide and her face was pale. Her mouth hanging limply open, she raised an arm and pointed weakly down the hall. "L-look..." she stammered.

Ron, curious, followed her finger to see what she was pointing at.

He blinked.

"Oh, _that_," he said blandly, as if the visibly warped and charred plates and pieces of steel scattered haphazardly across the far end of the corridor. The nearby walls and floor were riddled with holes and gashes and black burn marks. "Yeah, Karui sort of freaked out when saw a suit of armor move the other day. I guess they don't have very many of those where she's from."

He shrugged.

Hermione paled further, if that was even possible. "Incredible..." she murmured to herself, looking in awe at the damage this single person had wrought. "She definitely is something else..."

Ron waved her comments aside. "Oh, that's nothing. You should have seen what happened when Kreacher tried to smother Omoi. It took us hours to put that wall back up... Sirius thought it was a riot, of course, and Kreacher didn't come out for a whole day after that."

Hermione sighed. It would not be the last time she questioned her decision to stay with the Weasleys from so early on in the summer.

**TTFN and R&R!**

* * *

_translation notes:_

_none_


	27. Tinny Twin Ginny

**Remember the Name**

A _Naruto _x _Harry Potter_ Crossover

By

EvilFuzzy9

_"Small opportunities are often the beginning of great enterprises."_

- Demosthenes

* * *

**A/N: You know, right now this is nearly my most popular and successful fic, and it's only been up for about a month and then some. I haven't checked the Legacy Story Stats recently, but I think this fic might be doing even better than **_**Om Nom Nom, Hamster-chan!**_** (which is honestly but sadly understandable, considering the relatively miniscule popularity of the **_**Hayate the Combat Butler**_**, compared to **_**Naruto**_** or **_**Harry Potter**_**).**

**Also, I just noticed that there's a new site feature. Does anybody have any clue how Image Manager is supposed to work?**

**EDIT: Not that the feature is even turned on for stories yet, but I made a title cover thingy for this fic. It turns, however, that out it was much too wide, so a lot of it was lost. It looks okay as is, though, so it'll do for now. I might upload the full title cover to Deviant Art at a later point.  
**

* * *

Ginevra Weasley growled impatiently as she tried futilely to focus on her summer Charms homework. She knew it was important to get it done as soon as she could, especially since she rarely got any time to do it at Number Twelve, but it was impossible for her to focus at the moment.

Most of the time, she and the others were kept busy with the immensely daunting task of decontaminating the moldy old Black residence. It was a very tricky, but also very important duty, all told – magical houses tended to do some pretty weird things if left alone for too long (and the nutty old Black family house elf, Kreacher, seemed to be giving the manor a helping hand in its war against sanity and sanitation), but the new headquarters of the Order of the Pheonix could hardly be allowed to stay in such a state, so she and her brothers had been conscripted early on to clean house.

It was a very difficult task, especially for her and Ron, who were still minors and thus not allowed to use willful magic outside of school. Well, technically they _could_, since the Ministry generally left such things to the discretion of the parents when it came to magical families, especially for purebloods like themselves, but Molly Weasley was a strictly law-abiding woman with no tolerance for such nonsense – if she caught any of them using magic when they weren't supposed to, Ginny had no doubt that their mother would personally administer punishment.

The twins, Fred and George, who were now of age, had a grand old time rubbing their ability to use magic outside of school in her and Ron's faces, apparating everywhere and taking every excuse they could to use magic. But Ginny and Ron had had the last laugh when the twins tried to use _scourgify_ to clean out the blackened, soot encrusted furnace in the deepest basement level of the house, only for it to come alive and start spewing out magical fireballs in every color of the rainbow, nearly burning away the foundations of the house before their parents and Sturgis Podmore, one of the Order members, came to the rescue.

It had taken several stunners from Podmore and a few flame freezing charms from Molly to pacify the unruly furnace, and Arthur had needed to call in several more Order members to help him repair the structural damage to the foundation without accidentally un-anchoring any of the wards on the house. Since then, Molly had been adamant on ALL of them doing the cleaning "the muggle way", no exceptions.

The twins were still smarting from that, and they had taken to loudly grumbling about the "indignity of it all" at every chance they got, though Ginny had noticed that they had taken an apparent interest in old, unused furnace, sneaking it bits of broken furniture when they thought no one was looking. She shuddered to think what kind of mischief they might get into with access to something like a dragon-belly furnace (a class one non-tradeable artifact, according to their dad).

Ginny paused, looking up from her review of the section on Cheering Charms. She frowned. She heard footsteps outside her door. Footsteps and whispering.

And sniggering.

The source of the noise was immediately obvious to her. It was Fred and George, no doubt. Sneaking off to get into some mischief or other.

She snorted.

Well, she had no interest in stopping them. If they got caught doing something they shouldn't be, then that was their problem. She wasn't their mother.

That, and however things went, the results would doubtless be amusing to watch. It was boring with nothing to do but cleaning and schoolwork, and she was rarely able to talk to any of the coming or going Order members, and it was even rarer that they had anything interesting to say. They did not talk business with her, as she wasn't in the Order, and most of them were too much older than her for her to have any interesting conversations with them (Tonks was an exception, but she didn't come around too often). So if nothing else, whether the twins succeeded in their troublemaking or not, at least there would be _something _to break up the monotony.

But then something happened that she had not anticipated.

_"Oy, Ginny."_

She heard them tapping on the outside of her door and whispering her name. Frowning warily, she set her _Book of Standard Spells: Grade Three_ down on her bed and walked over to the door.

Opening the door, she glowered at the beaming, freckled face of Fred. Next to him, looking similarly pleased with himself, was George. Most people had trouble telling the twins apart, but Ginny had never had that problem.

"What do you two want?" she asked, eying them cautiously.

While the two usually avoided pranking her, both at school where she could retaliate with all of her nastiest hexes and at home where she could go running to Mum and play the "sweet, innocent daughter" card, she was not immune to getting caught up in the effects of their harebrained schemes. And if they were getting antsy and desperate for someone to prank, then she had few illusions that they would continue to avoid directly targeting her.

So, yes, she was careful, barely opening the door to her room (well, it was really her and Hermione's room now, she supposed) more than a crack as she peered through at them, eyes narrowed.

Fred and George smiled at her, adopting the air of a pair of door-to-door sales men.

"Why, we only wanted to include our favorite sister in a golden new business opportunity —" said George.

Ginny resisted pointing out that she was their _only_ sister.

"— It's a once in a lifetime opportunity, really," interjected Fred, "to get in on the ground floor of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes —"

"— You'll be considered an honorary partner, of course —" George continued.

"— just a formality, really, but it comes with all sorts of perks —" Fred explained at her skeptical look.

"— You'll get shares in the company, of course —" said George.

"— Partial credit for any inventions you help us test, naturally —" added Fred.

"— An executive discount on any merchandise you may wish to purchase in the future —" George continued.

"— And a free hat!" Fred concluded with a dramatic flourish.

Ginny stared, clearly unimpressed.

"What do you want?" she asked flatly, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

Fred and George, seeing that they wasn't sold, decided to try a different tactic.

"Look," said Fred, "We know you're interested in what the Order's doing. We are, too."

Ginny frowned, not certain she liked where this was heading but undeniably curious all the same.

"It's not fair for them to bring us here, to their headquarters, and make us clean for them, and then _not_ tell us what's going on," George declared.

"It's insulting, really!" Fred said emphatically. "We're just as involved in all of this as they are, but they're treating us all like kids."

Ginny found herself nodding in agreement with this. It _was_ unfair of the Order, wasn't it? The Dark Lord's return affected all of them, but the adults were _determined_ to keep them in the dark. It wasn't fair. They deserved to know – they had every right to join the fight against You-Know-Who!

The twins, seeing they had her interest, nodded to each other in silent agreement. Time to set the hook and reel 'er in.

"Well," said George, "the two of us have been working on a way to listen in on their meetings —"

Ginny frowned. "You want to _eavesdrop on them?_" she muttered disbelievingly.

Fred shook his head. "No, no, don't think of it as eavesdropping! Think of it as... gathering intelligence on their discussions in a clandestine manner."

"Right," Ginny said flatly, "_Eavesdropping._"

George sighed. "Look..." he said, "To-may-to... to-mah-to... All that matters is that we'll finally be getting in the know about You-Know-Who's activities. We have the right to know."

"_Harry_ has the right to know," Fred added, clearly having calculated this statement for maximum effectiveness.

Ginny flushed briefly, thinking of her former childish infatuation with the Boy-Who-Lived. "You're right, I suppose..." she conceded, causing the twins to grin.

"Well, then!" said George, "Let's go! Ron and Hermione are probably going batty waiting for us."

"Oh, most definitely," Fred agreed with a conspiratorial grin at his twin.

Snickering at some joke only they understood, Fred and George led the way.

**TTFN and R&R!**

* * *

_translation notes:_

_none_


	28. When You're so Embarrassed You Could Die

**Remember the Name**

A _Naruto _x _Harry Potter_ Crossover

By

EvilFuzzy9

_"As an individual, I myself feel impelled to fancy ... a limitless succession of Universes... Each exists, apart and independently, in the bosom of its proper and particular God."_

- Edgar Allan Poe

* * *

**A/N: I haven't been writing all that much, lately. But I've been tired lately, and it's been busy at our house lately. My younger brother, the middle one, Sky, is moving back in along with his girlfriend (he moved out of the house a year or two ago after our parents told that they would like him to start paying rent – just fifty dollars a month, really – since he was working and not really attending school). **

**I'm not clear on what exactly caused him to decide to move back in, but he is, and he and his girlfriend have been helping out with some long overdue cleaning. Now, I say "helping out", but honestly his girlfriend has been doing the bulk of the clean up and the rest of us are really just helping **_**her.**_** It's kind of unbelievable how capable and enthusiastic she is about cleaning house. Honestly, in our family, messiness is kind of the status quo. Most of us are terrible about tidying up, and entropy is quite evident in how things get scattered about. Mom, bless her heart, tries to keep the house clean, but she has a job of her own, and it's simply a losing battle. **

**But Sky's girlfriend, Tiff, is like some kind of human... cleaning thingy, and even the basement (which has always been something of a disaster zone) is actually starting to once again look fit for human habitation. It's amazing, really.**

**And then there's the cats. **

**Now, we have a cat, a fat maine-coon named Bella, but I'm not talking about her. No, I'm talking about the stray cat that moved into our basement some time during the winter. This stray... well, we knew for a while that she was down there, sneaking in and out through a hole in the foundation. We'd often see it **–** or her, rather **–** on the back porch whenever we went out there to do something or other, after all. But the kittens were a recent discovery. **

**Yes. A stray cat has been raising her kittens in our basement, which we have been cleaning out, living in the room under the stairs (which lead up to the back door, then up again to the back porch and a side door that we haven't used in forever due to aforementioned hole in the foundation causing the floor next to the door to basically be non-existant). **

**We have taken to calling her Mama Cat. **

**:3**

**Also, I recently registered at Pottermore. My username over there is NewtMugwump9268, and my house is Hufflepuff. And my wand is English oak, unicorn hair, 10 inches, and slightly springy. **

* * *

"... _Extendable Ears?_" Ginny muttered questioningly, skeptically eying the flesh colored string that was dangling from her hand. "Is this for real?"

Ron shrugged, looking to the twins for help. "I dunno," he told her, "Fred and George insisted on having you join us, so we haven't been able to try them out yet..." His eyes went to an identical string that was hanging to his own hand.

"What," said Fred, sounding affronted, "don't you trust our merchandise?"

"Weasley's Wizard Wheezes stocks only the finest in mischief making materials," added George.

"If there's anyone you can trust to help you cause trouble," Fred continued, "it's _us._"

Hermione shook her head in exasperation. "Yes, yes, that's an excellent sales pitch," she said dismissively, "But do they _work?_ That's the question."

George sniffed theatrically. "Of course they work —" he said.

"— Why wouldn't they?" Fred concluded.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "It wouldn't be the first time you foisted a faulty prototype on us," she said bluntly with a nonchalant shrug. The twins made faked cries of outrage in response to this.

The five of them – Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Fred, and George – were gathered on the landing above the door to the basement kitchen, where the Order of the Phoenix was currently conducting a secret meeting. Apparently, Fred and George were just as curious about the Order's secretive agenda as the rest of them, and had been working on a way to listen in on the meetings and find out what exactly the Order was doing.

And, at least according to the twins, they had finally succeeded in this with the creation of their Extendable Ears. According to them, their Extendable Ears would enable easy eavesdropping with minimal risk of being caught. The Extendable Ears were completely inconspicuous, they claimed, and could be quickly reeled in at a moment's notice. These were just prototypes, with no additional features, but they were hopeful about further improving them with such things as automatic disillusionment and quick casting-retracting capabilities as well as extended range. But that was for the future, they said. The Extendable Ears worked fine, and just needed a field test, or so they insisted.

Ron was excited about the opportunity to finally learn more about the activities of the organization that would no doubt be instrumental in thwarting the plans of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, if a bit wary of the duo's invention and their track record for testing their unpredictable prototypes on him. Hermione and Ginny, however, were considerably more skeptical. They didn't trust the twins and their experiments any further than they could throw them – a good deal less, really.

"I just don't think this is a good idea," Hermione said, pressing the attack, "There are so many things that could go wrong even if these _do _work perfectly, and that is rather dubious, honestly..."

"She's right, you know!" Ginny added in a fierce whisper, being careful not to draw any unwanted attention to them. "You haven't given us any good reasons to trust these things!" She waved her own Extendable Ear in Fred's and George's faces to punctuate her point. "Who's to say these won't transfigure our ears into turnips the second we try to use them, huh?"

"_We're _to say," said Fred, smiling indulgently at his little sister. "Right, Fred?"

"Right you are, George!" George nodded. "We wouldn't joke around about something this serious —"

"— Yes you would," Ginny deadpanned without missing a beat

"— and turning ears into vegetables is old hat, anyways, eh Fred?" George concluded, looking at Fred.

"Eh, George," Fred nodded.

Ron groaned, tearing at his hair. "Oy, quit that!" he insisted.

Fred cocked an eyebrow at his little brother. "Quit what?" he asked, "We aren't doing anything, are we, Fred?"

"Don't believe so, George," said George, shaking his head. "Are you sure you're quite right in the head there, Ronniekins?" he asked facetiously, trying and failing to stifle a snicker.

Ron scowled at the pair of incorrigible jokers, and he was joined by Ginny and Hermione.

"Don't act like you aren't doing anything!" Hermione huffed lowly, pinning the duo with an unamused glare. "We came here because you insisted that this was something serious, but if you're just going to keep making jokes, then —"

Whatever she was going to say next, it was drowned out by the distinctive sound of someone rapping their knuckles on the front door.

_"Ah, it sounds like Samui's back," _they heard Lupin declare quite loudly and awkwardly.

_"Yes, it does, doesn't it?"_ they heard Mr Weasley declare in a similarly over-loud voice, his words being pronounced in a distinctly stiff, forced tone. _"Why don't I go get the door for her, then..."_

_"No, Weasley —"_ the quintet flinched at the sound of Snape's voice, practically able to _hear_ the sneer that was no doubt on his face, _"— __I__ will get it."_

_"N-no, no,"_ they heard Mr Weasley nervously continue, _"There's no need for you to get up. Allow me, I insist."_

They didn't hear Snape's response to this, if he made any, but a moment later they saw the knob on the kitchen door turning, and they quickly made themselves scarce by ducking inside a nearby door.

They heard familiar footsteps echoing up from the basement landing, footsteps the pattern and tempo of which had been permanently ingrained into the psyche of every non-Slytherin student to attend Hogwarts in the last fifteen years. Fred, George, Ginny, Hermione, and Ron unconsciously held their breath as they heard the much feared and hated (though mostly by students) Professor Severus Snape make his way up the stairs and down the corridor leading to the front door.

Snape's pace was not hurried, but neither was it exactly leisurely. He moved at just the speed he needed to in order to get where ever it was he needed to go, no faster, and no slower. He had a gift for hurrying without seeming in any way the least bit hurried, really. No known student during the entirety of Professor Snape's tenure at Hogwarts had ever seen the man break out into a run, and the man had carefully cultivated a certain nasty mystique that made him seem to be more along the lines of something like a particularly greasy, mean-spirited vampire than any sort of human. He never had any need for haste, the upper years would always say, because Professor Snape was always _exactly_ where he needed to be, _precisely_ when he needed to be there, to make the most misery for Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, and Ravenclaws.

The quintet's hearts nearly stopped when they heard Snape's footsteps come to a stop outside the door they had hidden behind. They could see, in their minds' eyes, the spiteful potions master glaring icily at them through the door, as though his eyes were just as capable as Moody's at seeing through solid objects. They could faintly hear him mutter something unpleasant-sounding under his breath, and for an instant they feared that they had been found out. But after a few agonizing seconds of wondering whether he was going to get it over with and just throw the door open already, they finally heard his footsteps resume onwards in the direction of the front door, and they let out a collective sigh of relief.

"That was too close,"Ron whispered weakly, his face so pale you could have counted his freckles.

Hermione nodded in agreement, though it was a little difficult, considering how her chin was pressing into the lanky redhead's shoulder. It was a very tight fit, inside the room. It was so cluttered with detritus that one could scarcely go more more than a foot from the door without getting buried beneath decades of junk. She was being veritably between Ron and a big, ugly, moldy cabinet, and Ron was honestly not faring much better with Ginny being squished into him by the twins, who were themselves barely able to breathe pinned as they were against a cracked and weathered gargoyle (though what it was doing in there was anyone's guess).

"Yes," Hermione agreed, her voice so low that her words were more breathed than spoken, "It really seemed like Snape had caught us, for a moment there..."

Ron shook his head, which was the only part of him that he could freely move (it was times like this that he thanked whoever it was up there that had decided to make him so bloody tall), his cheeks faintly red in the dim light of the room.

"I don't mean that," he murmured awkwardly, trying not to shift his position to much. "I mean... it's..."

Hermione flushed as she became aware of just how compromising their current position was.

Ginny gave a mortified squeak, jumping up with a start. "_Ron!_" she hissed.

"I'm sorry!" he squawked, "It's Hermione, she's right _there_, and her — her — are — !"

"Well, get off of her, then!" Ginny snapped as quietly and impatiently as she could manage in the present situation.

"... I can't," Ron whimpered.

Ginny twisted around, trying as best she could to avoid pressing against her brother, but she was stuck between him and the twins and there wasn't much room to move. She gave her brother a nasty glare. "And why _NOT?_" she spat, scarcely bothering to lower her voice.

"You're right on top of me!" Ron quietly whined, causing Ginny to huff and flush and the twins to snigger.

"Oh, this is _gold_, George!" Fred whispered not-so-quietly.

"Too true, Fred," George agreed. "Wait until the others hear about this. Why, I bet they'll —"

"Don't you _DARE!_"Ron and Ginny hissed as one, practically spitting fire as they rounded on the two.

"If anyone ever heard about this, I'd _die_ of embarrassment!" said Ginny.

"We're not _those_ kinds of purebloods!" Ron added frantically, "Even the _Malfoy's _aren't _those_ kinds of purebloods!"

"If _either_ of you ever breathes a word about this to _anyone_, I'll _**kill **__the __**both **__of you!_" Ginny hissed ferociously, her voice dripping with a feminine menace to similar to their mum's for the twins' tastes. "_Understand?_"

Fred and George sweat-dropped nervously for a moment, before sharing a look with one another and nodding.

Fred smiled all too sweetly for it to be genuine. "Yes, we understand," he whispered, "Right, Fred?"

"Right you are, George," said George, a smile identical to his twin's adorning his face. There was a twinkle in his eye, which Fred mirrored.

Ron glowered at the two, leaning forward over Ginny, who stifled a squeak and shot a dirty look at her brother.

"No, I don't think you do," he whispered surprisingly dangerously, ignoring Ginny's protests as he leaned in even closer until his nose was nearly poking Fred in the eye. His eyes were hard and narrow. He was being remarkably intimidating, and the twins were actually rather impressed.

... at least, until Ron crumpled bonelessly to the floor after a sharp elbow to the gut courtesy of a fuming, red-faced Ginny, who was finally able to scoot out of the five person pile up.

"Watch what you're doing, you great bloody pillock!" the only daughter of Molly and Arthur Weasley hissed at the youngest of her older brothers. "I mean, _really...!_"she sighed, shaking her head in annoyance.

"Methinks dear Ginniekins doth protest too much, eh, Fred?" George snickered, causing Ginny to whip around with a livid expression on her face.

"Eh, George," Fred agreed, before ducking a swing from an irate Ginny.

"_I'll kill you!_" the youngest Weasley hissed, swiping her arms wildly at the twins as she struggled against the hold of one Hermione Weasley... er... Granger [**1**].

With Ron laid out wheezing on the floor, they were no longer packed together like anchovies, and were once more free to move about, even if there wasn't much space to do so in the room. Naturally, Ginny wanted to use this freedom of movement to beat Fred and George into a barely recognizable pulp, and Hermione of course was opposed to such a violent course of action and tried to restrain Ginny while the twins huddled up in a corner far away from the girls and Ron caught his breath on the floor.

But then all five of them froze when they heard the approaching footsteps and voices that reminded them why they'd crammed themselves into that room in the first place.

They were perfectly silent, deathly afraid of being caught by Snape. As the five stood stock still in the cluttered room, they heard the voice of an older man speaking with Hogwarts' resident potions master.

_"... I still don't see why you joined Albus's little club in the first place. It doesn't seem like your kind of crowd..."_

_"Who's to say I really did?" _they heard Snape sneer coldly in response. _"After all, I __am__ a spy, aren't I?"_

**TTFN and R&R!**

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[**1**]: Honest to God, I have no idea how it happened, but I actually typed "Hermione Weasley" by complete accident, and then decided to make a one-off gag of it, like I often do with notable or funny typos.

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_translation notes:_

_none_

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**[This chapter sponsored by B.I.A.S. – boners in awkward situations. Because I am incorrigible.]**


	29. Unfortunate Overhearings?

**Remember the Name**

A _Naruto _x _Harry Potter_ Crossover

By

EvilFuzzy9

_"The nearest way to glory is to strive to be what you wish to be thought to be."_

- Socrates

* * *

**A/N: Sorry I haven't been writing much lately, but I've been out of my medication for a few days now (it's ridiculously expensive, and I don't have quite enough money to make the copay at the moment). Also, it's been raining like nobody's business up here the past couple of weeks, and my mom's car got washed away in a flash flood on the twentieth. And then we went camping on the twenty-fourth.**

**On the upside, I reread basically the entirety of OoTP while camping, so there's that. (Though I've gotta say, after rereading the book, it's gonna be **_**very**_** hard for me to resist the temptation to kill off Umbridge. But I'll try.)**

* * *

_"... I still don't see why you joined Albus's little club in the first place. It doesn't seem like your kind of crowd..."_

_"Who's to say I really did?" _they heard Snape sneer coldly in response. _"After all, I __am__ a spy, aren't I?"_

Ron hissed angrily at this, and Hermione had to clap a hand over his mouth to keep him from saying anything he might regret.

"Ronald Weasley," she whispered harshly into his ear. "Don't you dare...!"

Ron glared at her, and he was soon joined by his three siblings. Hermione huffed silently at this, but hushed them all the same with a stern look, silently imploring them to wait before jumping to conclusions.

_"... always such a kidder, this one!"_ they heard the older man's voice chuckling. _"He's got a real sharp wit on him, this boy does, and he's not afraid to use it _–_ as you can easily tell, I'm sure!"_

_"Yes, I suppose he does,"_ they heard another voice say. This one was a woman's – Hermione recognized it as belonging to the blonde who had greeted her not long after her arrival at Number Twelve. _"But he could stand to blunt the edge of it a bit, I'd say."_

The older man guffawed at this, apparently finding her words quite amusing.

_"Ah, but I'd say you have an even sharper tongue than he does, Miss Samui,"_ the man remarked pleasantly. _"And a fairer face as well, I must admit!"_

They heard a faint snort. _"You flatter me, Professor,"_ Samui drawled facetiously.

_"Well, I should hope so," _the man laughed awkwardly. _"That IS the point of it, after all! And... don't call me 'Professor',"_ he added quietly, his voice almost too low to make out. _"I haven't taught a class in ages, after all..."_

_"Oh?"_ they heard Samui say, her voice sounding like it was coming from just outside the door. _"But according to the Headmaster..."_

_"Ah, yes. Well, Dumbledore has always been a little quick to make assumptions,"_ the man said. _"But I haven't committed to anything, yet. Want to keep my options open, you understand..." _he muttered.

Snape's sneer, which they simply _knew_ had to be on his face at this point, was nearly audible, and all five of the teens hidden away in the room could quite clearly envision the potions master's expression.

_"It's a little late for that,"_ Snape drawled. _"You're already here, in our headquarters after all. We couldn't possibly permit you to back out on this now," _he remarked in a rather goblin-like manner. He waited a moment for his words to sink in, before adding, _"And it's not like the Dark Lord would be very gracious to you, either. Even if you were to approach him on your hands and knees and beg for your life... well, he is not a merciful man. And he is still quite..."_ he paused for effect before continuing, _"__cross__... with you. The Dark Lord does not easily forgive slights against him, and your refusal of his offer left him quite... chagrined."_

The older man made a sound somewhere between a squeak and a whimper. His tone was anxious now as he weakly said, _"Ah... You've heard about that, then, have you...?"_

_"But of course,"_ they heard Samui coolly interject as the trio's voices faded into the distance. _"He __is__ a spy, after all..." _

Fred glowered darkly at the door as they heard the trio's footsteps on the stairs leading down to the basement kitchen. George was hissing some very nasty things under his breath.

"No good snake..." Ron muttered. "I _knew_ Snape was a Death Eater!"

Hermione sighed long-sufferingly. "Oh, not this again..." She shook her head. "You really don't hear anything but what you want to, do you...?" she mused wearily.

"You heard what he said!" Ginny hissed, jumping in on behalf of her brother. "He's a spy! He's in contact with You-Know-Who, probably feeding him all kinds of information on the Order's plans!"

Hermione groaned. "Really..." She sighed again. "Why do I always have to be the voice of reason...?" she muttered under her breath, before saying more loudly, "Look, if Snape was a spy for the Death Eaters, would he _really_ go around saying so in the heart of the Order's headquarters? Honestly, if he's spying on anyone, it's probably V-V-Voldemort — _Oh, don't look at me like that!_" she snapped impatiently, upon seeing the horrified expressions on the Weasley quartet's faces.

Ron flushed self-consciously. "S-sorry..." he muttered, "But... it's that name..." He shivered.

Hermione sighed. "Yes. And that's _all _it is – a _name_. Really, if you can't even hear his name without getting scared..."

She trailed off, leaving the _"how will you ever be able to fight against him?"_ unsaid.

Ron shook his head. "'S'easy for you to say," he grumbled, "_You_ didn't grow up thinking he'd pop out of your closet if you said his name..."

Hermione cocked an eyebrow at this, causing Ron's ears to grow redder. She shook her head, sighing.

"Oh, I know," she said, "But still... It's just frustrating, having to watch someone as brave as you act so fearfully over something so inconsequential as a name."

"...'M'not brave..." Ron mumbled self-consciously, causing Hermione to roll her eyes.

"_Honestly_, Ronald!" she said, "You're one of the most loyal and courageous people I know – you really are – but you have _got_ to give yourself more credit. Really, you'd think you were channeling _Harry_, with the way you're talking...!"

This remark caused Ron to chuckle weakly.

"It really does, doesn't it...?" he mused. "...Blimey, I must be going batty from being cooped up in here... It's been days since I've even seen the sun."

Hermione nodded. "Yes, it _is _a rather gloomy place, isn't it? Scarcely any natural lighting at all, and the decor leaves a lot to be desired... It's all very _dark_ and _morbid_. I couldn't _imagine_ having to stay here all year-round!"

"It'd be right awful," Ron agreed. "You've gotta feel sorry for Sirius, having to stay here... At least _we'll _only be here until we head back to Hogwarts in September, but he doesn't even have that. And he really hates it here, too. More than the rest of us, I mean."

Hermione nodded thoughtfully.

"Yes," she said, "Well, I don't know much about his past, but I can't imagine someone like him _ever_ feeling at home in a place like this. And it must bring back all sorts of simply _awful_ memories, too..."

"Right terrible luck he has, doesn't he?" Ron mused. "I don't envy him one bit. It must be driving him mental, having to stay here."

"He misses Harry," George observed, adding his two knuts to the conversation.

"Can't see why, though," added Fred, grinning broadly. "Not much of a personality on that one, is there?"

Hermione huffed at this and Ron smiled weakly.

"No, not at all," said George. "And he's not particularly good looking, either."

"A bit slow, too," Fred agreed.

"But he's his godson," Hermione interjected impatiently. "And he misses him."

Fred and George shrugged in perfect synchronization.

"Well, there's no accounting for taste, is there?" Fred remarked.

"I suppose not," George said with an exaggerated shrug. "It's a shame, though."

"A right shame indeed," Fred agreed.

Ginny snorted.

"Oh, come off it, you two!" she sniped impatiently. "The coast is sure to be clear, by now. Let's hurry up and get down there while they're still having the meeting!"

"Oh ho _ho_!" George said with a grin, "It sounds like our sweet baby sister has changed her tune about dropping some eaves now, eh?"

"Indeed it does!" Fred agreed. "Why, she might even consent to dropping some on the great, greasy bat's head at this rate!"

Hermione, stepping forward past the twins to pull the door open, rolled her eyes.

"Do you two even know what 'eaves' _are?_" she inquired dryly.

"Nope," George and Fred admitted cheerfully, their voices perfectly in sync. "But let's hope they're good and heavy!"

**TTFN and R&R!**

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_translation notes:_

_none_


	30. The Possibly Shocking Reveal

**Remember the Name**

A _Naruto _x _Harry Potter_ Crossover

By

EvilFuzzy9

_"The greatest remedy for anger is delay."_

- Seneca

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**A/N: Well, I had originally intended for this chapter to cover more than it did, but then once I reached a certain point I realized that I had a perfect spot to end the chapter.  
**

**On an unrelated note, yesterday I was FINALLY able to start playing Skyward Sword after getting it for Christmas six months ago. It was a helluva long time to wait, but I'd say it was worth it. Though I _do_ still wish I could have started sooner... *gripe*  
**

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It was with a not inconsiderable amount of trepidation that the quintet sneaked onto the landing overlooking the basement kitchen of Number Twelve. Talking about listening in on an Order meeting was one thing, but actually doing it was something else entirely, and even the twins were almost sober as they prepared to stick the receiver-end of their invention to the kitchen door.

Indeed, the hardest part would be getting the Ears close enough to pick up the discussions going on in the makeshift command center of the Order of the Phoenix. The only way to do so, with the prototype Extendable Ears, was to stick it manually to the door – doing it magically was inadvisable, as the charms that made the devices work were rather delicate in their present incarnation and thus relatively easily disrupted by magical fluctuations. Fred and George expressed hopes of eventually developing a more stable version of the enchantments, but it would take a good deal of time and research to do so. In the meantime, it was inadvisable, they said, to use any sort of spell on their magical listening devices lest they shorted out the charms. Thus, the receivers had to be planted manually.

With an impromptu game of rock-paper-scissors, it was decided that Ginny would be the one to slip down the stairs and stick the Ears to the door. She wasn't too happy about that, but she did it without too much complaint. By some miracle of narrative convention, Ginny actually managed to stick the receivers to the door without any trouble whatsoever, and soon the quintet were listening in on a meeting of the Order of the Phoenix.

It was exhilarating, to say the least.

_" — so I followed him for the rest of the day as best as I could, but he didn't slip up a second time,"_ they heard the voice of Arthur Weasley say.

_"I'm not surprised,"_ remarked the deep voice of the auror Kingsley Shacklebolt. _"That man is many things, but careless is not one of them."_

_"Yes,"_ said another voice that the twins recognized as belonging to an excitable wizard named Diggle. _"It's a pity, don't you think? That such nasty folk can walk free, I mean."_

_ "Yes,"_ Arthur sighed, _"The Imperius Curse... I really do hate that spell. Turning decent, innocent witches and wizards into puppets to be thrown into Azkaban, and giving actual Death Eaters an easy way to escape any culpability for their crimes... That's why it was made Unforgivable in the first place, you know!" _

Ron frowned slightly, remembering what the Imposter Moody had told him the previous year about the trouble the Imperius Curse had caused the Ministry. He looked over at Hermione and Ginny, who seemed to be listening intently, though the former looked decidedly awkward with the whole situation.

He smiled inwardly. _'That's our Hermione,'_ he thought fondly, _'All rules and books and bushy hair.'_

He stifled a good natured chuckle at this observation and returned his attention to the listening device that was plugged into his ear.

_"But unfortunately,"_ said Dumbledore's voice, speaking in an even, measured tone, _"We must move on to the next item on the agenda... I do believe our guest is becoming impatient,"_ he continued, some of the customary humor returning to his voice.

_"I really don't see why I need to be here, Albus,"_ they heard the voice of the older man from the hall mutter weakly, _"I'd rather not get involved in any of this, you understand..."_

_ "I understand,"_ interjected a voice they recognized as belonging to Sirius Black, _"That you don't really have a choice in the matter, __Professor__. It's unlikely that the Death Eaters will forgive for refusing to help them, after all."_

They heard the older man sigh nostalgically.

_"Ah, yes, I remember you, Sirius..."_ he muttered half to himself, _"Such a clever boy... One of the top students in your year, if I recall correctly. Not as skilled in potions as Lily or Severus, of course, but you were high up there nonetheless, and the other teachers, as well, always spoke so highly of you and James... at least, when talking about your grades."_

A slight hint of a smile crept into his voice.

_"Yes, you two were incorrigible troublemakers. Always dropping dungbombs in the Great Hall and jinxing anybody who so much as looked at you funny."_ He hummed pleasantly to himself._ "The two of you made such a great deal of work for me, you know!"_ he said in good humor,_ "I barely had any free time at all, during those seven years you two attended Hogwarts! Oh, I spent so many hours brewing potions to refill the Hospital Wing's stocks every time you two got sent up there after one of your escapades that I hardly had the time for anything else..."_

The humor drained out of his voice, and his tone become more somber.

_ "... Of course, it I was terribly surprised when you were thrown into Azkaban... They said that you were the Dark Lord's right hand man, back then, that you had plotted all kinds of terrible things. It was difficult... yes, even back then, it was very difficult to believe what they were saying... Difficult... but not impossible."_

There was the sound of a fist smacking hard on wood. A chair squeaked shrilly against the floor, as if it were being violently pushed back.

_"Watch your temper, Black," _said a voice with an unmistakeable sarcastic drawl.

_"Stow it, Snivellus!"_ Sirius snapped angrily. _"This stupid — this fat old — he has no right — !"_

_ "See now, Sirius!" _the unidentified older man interjected,_ "That's exactly what I mean! That temper of yours..."_

_" — Is none of your business!" _Sirius spat, his voice laced with bitter venom. _"What right do you have to come here and talk to me like that, anyways?-!"_

_"The right of sanctuary,"_ Dumbledore's voice answered, cutting into the brewing argument and stopping it before it could get any worse. _"As you already know, our guest here has been on the run from Death Eaters for the past week, after a... dispute... between himself and an emissary of Voldemort."_

Four of the five listening in on this conversation over the Extendable Ears – Fred, George, Ginny, and Ron, to be specific – flinched outright, and the fifth one – Hermione – had to fight to supress a shiver at the sound of the chosen name of You-Know-Who.

_ "And as you yourself touched upon earlier, Sirius,"_ Dumbledore continued, uninterrupted by the reactions his casual use of Voldemort's name aroused in many of the older Order members, _"Our guest here was offered a place among Voldemort's inner circle in exchange for swearing an Unbreakable Vow to never divulge certain... sensitive information... that the Dark Lord would rather have kept a complete secret."_

_"Eh?"_ they heard the metamorphmagus Tonks say, _"The inner circle...? Not just anyone can get that high up in the Death Eaters ranks... That must've been some pretty juicy information. But still, who the heck is this guy, anyways?" _she asked. _"I don't think he's on any of the auror watch lists... Not if I've never seen his face, before."_

They heard Kingsley's deep voice chuckle.

_"Yes, I suppose it was a fair bit before your time, but back when I was attending Hogwarts, and for a long time before that, the Potions instructor... and Head of House for Slytherin... was one Professor Horace Slughorn." _

**TTFN and R&R!**

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_translation notes:_

_none_


	31. Two Professors and a New Staff Member

**Remember the Name**

A _Naruto _x _Harry Potter_ Crossover

By

EvilFuzzy9

_"Win as if you were used to it, lose as if you enjoyed it for a change."_

- Golnik Eric

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**A/N: There, I've **_**finally**_** set up that thing I've wanted to set up for weeks, and I even got some good material to go with it as a bonus. Everyone wins! **

**As a note, I had originally not planned on making this chapter, but instead was going to have the next one as chapter 31, meaning that I actually wrote chapters 31 and 32 in the opposite order.**

* * *

After that, the meeting went on for about another twenty minutes. For the most part, subjects the Order members covered during the last part of their meeting were neither interesting nor informative. There was a bit of needling from the more curious members about what sort of information Slughorn had the Dork Lord would want kept quiet, but the retired professor's lips were sealed, and the questions quickly petered out in favor of other matters.

And despite how glamorous and romantic our young, eavesdropping heroes and heroines might have imagined the Order of the Phoenix to be, the fact of the matter was that, while there was a certain amount of intrigue, the Order also dealt with some very boring and tedious things. The truth was that espionage was a very dirty, very boring business, and the war against You-Know-Who was – at least presently – more about sitting around and planning than it was actually fighting Death Eaters. All told, the rest of the meeting was pretty much just the assigning of patrol routes and planning of timetables for future meetings.

In fact, after a quarter of an hour of nothing of any particular interest, Hermione and the four youngest Weasleys were all just about ready to pack up the Extendable Ears and head back up to their rooms. They were just about to reel the listening devices in when Ginny, who still had her earpiece in, gasped at something she heard, all the blood draining from her face.

The others, noticing this, quickly shoved their earpieces back in, curious as to what Ginny had heard to cause her to have a reaction like that.

Listening in, they recognized the voice they heard quite well. Dumbledore was speaking.

_"... And on a related note, I feel like I should offer my heartfelt gratitude and congratulations to an old friend and longtime colleague of mine, who has so graciously agreed to take up the position of Potions Professor in light of the recent vacancy,"_ the Headmaster of Hogwarts announced in the uniquely cheerful tone of voice he often used when giving speeches to the school.

_"I haven't agreed to anything, yet!" _they heard Slughorn protest, but it did not sound like his heart was in it.

Ron frowned, not seeing why Snape being replaced would make Ginny gasp – cheer, maybe, but _gasp?_ The twins, for their part, grinned hopefully at this news, thinking that maybe Snape had finally been given the sack. But Hermione got a thoughtful, somewhat anxious expression on her face.

_"So let us give our congratulations to the new teachers of Defense Against the Dark Arts and Potions at the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry"_ — Ron and the twins felt a shiver of ill-boding run down their spines at this, as the clues slowly began to click in their heads — _"Professors Severus Snape and Horace Slughorn."_

Fred, George, and Ron could have wailed in horror at this, and they likely _would have_ if they had not remembered that they were trying to stay unheard. Ginny was still quite pale, and even Hermione looked a little sick.

Unwilling and unable to stay there any longer, the five pulled in their Extendable Ears and dashed off, thus missing what came next.

"And furthermore," Dumbledore added, "I have also decided to take Miss Karui up on her offer to come onto the Hogwarts' staff to keep an eye on things where the teachers cannot, under the pretense of updating the school's wards."

Many of the Order members nodded at this, and Karui's teammates gave the red head a knowing look that said, _Anything to get out of this house, huh?_.

Karui, cheeks darkening, muttered under her breath something about Omoi having made a good point anyways. Samui, hearing this, shot a curious look at her other teammate, who shrugged noncommittally and mumbled something about not thinking Karui would actually take his advice.

Needless to say, the blonde was more than a little lost, but she did well not to let it show on her face beyond a single delicately raised eyebrow.

* * *

Back upstairs, in one of the cleaned up rooms on the second floor, the youngest current residents of Number Twelve were sulking over their dreadful luck, and imagining how awful things would be now that Snape finally had the position he'd been rumored to have been vying for since day one.

"I bet You-Know-Who'll be ecstatic to have Snape as the DADA professor," Ron moaned miserably, slumped over a now-bare desk where he had, a few days earlier, nearly gotten his head bashed in by a semi-spherical paperweight that had apparently been enchanted to fly up and smash into anyone who tried to move it. "He probably won't even teach us a single thing – it wouldn't do to accidentally anyone something that could be used against him and his Death Eater buddies, after all."

"_Honestly,_ Ronald!" Hermione said snippily from where she was seated on a black wooden stool across the room, "Don't you trust Dumbledore's judgement _at all?_"

Ron sniffed obstinately, shooting his friend a dirty look.

"He's the one who said we shouldn't tell Harry anything in our letters..." he groused stubbornly, before sighing. "...Yeah, I _trust _him," he conceded, "but that doesn't mean I don't think he's few pieces short of a chess set."

Hermione shook her head in disbelief, muttering, "_Honestly..._" in a most exasperated tone of voice. She was quite good at it, really, after four years of being best friends with Ron Weasley and Harry Potter. She wouldn't trade either one of them for the world, but that didn't mean she never got tired of dealing with how thick and bullheaded the two could be.

The twins, meanwhile, were crouched over in a far corner having a muttered, seemingly half-verbal, half-telepathic conversation with each other, identical mutinous expressions on their faces.

" — can't believe it — "

" — completely unacceptable — "

" — if only he'd waited another year — "

" — not gonna take this lying down —"

" — show that greasy prat — "

" — see if he messes with us — "

" — make him regret ever being born — "

Ginny, for her part, was laid out on her back, staring blankly at the ceiling. Her face was paper white, and her lips were moving silently, clearly in shock over this news.

And even Hermione, who generally tried to be fair and sincerely wanted to give Snape a chance, could not completely ignore the feeling of dread that was slowly building in her stomach. It was bad now, but Hermione just _knew_ that it would get much worse long before it ever got even marginally better. A small part of her even briefly contemplated dropping out of Hogwarts altogether and living the rest of her life as a muggle, but only for a second before she fiercely shoved it aside.

Hermione shivered as another thought hit her. If _she _was having this much trouble with this news, how on earth would _Harry_ take it?

Knowing him as well as she did, the bright young witch could not help but conclude that there would probably be blood.

Lots and lots of blood.

**TTFN and R&R!**

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_translation notes:_

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	32. Meanwhile, Back on Endor

**Remember the Name**

A _Naruto _x _Harry Potter_ Crossover

By

EvilFuzzy9

_"People are not persuaded by what we say but rather by what they understand."_

__- Fortune Cookie

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**A/N: Originally, I was gonna write a chapter with further eavesdropping on the Order meeting, but I sorta got stuck early on in writing it, so I decided to shift the focus elsewhere for this chapter. I'm still not sure where exactly I'll go with this particular subplot, if I even go anywhere at all with it, but I felt like giving a little glimpse of how things are going back at the homestead. **

* * *

As all this was going on in London, England, there was trouble brewing on the other side of the world. In the Hidden Cloud Village, in the Land of Lightning, the Mission Center located on the lowest floor of the Raikage Tower was a frenzy of activity. Couriers, Interns, and Paperwork Ninja rushed back and forth throughout the structure, arms loaded with precariously tall stacks of forms, messages, and reports as they strove furiously to keep the village's bureaucracy running under an onslaught of mission requests and assignments.

"Have they picking up any readings, yet?"

"Where are those mission reports? I asked for them _hours_ ago!"

"No word from the Reserve Unit Delta, sir!"

"Bring me the Tanaka file, and step on it!"

"Present scan radius of fifty kilometers! No sign of the target!"

"You! Intern! Take this message to Tracking Squad Three!"

"Bring me those reports!"

"The eastern cliffs are secure, sir!"

"Fifth Direct Combat Cell, Captain Kasumi, reporting in!"

"Tee! Dee! Kogarashi! Monitor the situation in the Black Ravine!"

"T&I have sent in another requisition for a new rack!"

"Where's Lord Raikage? We need him to sign off on these mission assignments!"

The building was in an uproar as underpaid pencil-pushers and overworked shinobi ran to and fro in a chaotic, whirling maelstrom of bureaucratic procedure. The atmosphere was one of tension and confusion. There had been a recent surge in activity for both the military and civilian populations of the Hidden Cloud due to an increase of mission requests sent to the village by their feudal lord, the daimyō of Kaminari no Kuni, and everyone was struggling to keep up.

Indeed, the feudal lord's decision to encourage foreign merchants and aristocrats to send more missions to his country's ninja village was as much of a curse as it was a boon – the population of Kumogakure was only just starting to return to the numbers it had been at prior to the Third Great Shinobi War, and a large fraction of that was children who were only just now entering the ninja forces. This meant that the disparity of manpower between the lower and higher ranks was even further skewed toward genin and academy students than it usually was, and so while there were more than enough hands for D-ranks and the occasional C-rank, many of the more highly ranked shinobi who only weeks earlier had been barely able to get any missions were now finding their hands full with almost more work than they could handle.

It also did not help matters that after the Guardian of the Cloud, Lord Killer Bee, had run off on a lark a bit over a week ago, several squads' worth of jōnin and chūnin had needed to be reassigned to village defenses to make up a fraction of the difference. And even more of the village's elite were working on the seemingly futile task of tracking down Lord Bee, so there were hardly any hands left to deal with the B-ranks and higher that continued to pile up in the mission office's inbox.

At this rate, according to scuttlebutt, it was only a matter of time before something gave way and the whole house of cards came toppling down. The smart money was on Lord Ay losing his temper and running off after his tag team partner and little brother-in-all-but-blood, but there were also more than a few that were betting on an overworked paperwork ninja snapping and going on a murderous rampage.

* * *

The general mood in the office of the Fourth Raikage was not much better than down in the Mission Center. Lord Ay, a large, darkly-skinned platinum blond with slicked back hair and a small mustache, who had arms like tree trunks and muscles like boulders, was glowering at thin air as he did repetitions with deceptively small handheld weights. There was a sense of anxious energy as the air in the room crackled hotly with the natural electricity of his chakra.

Despite the open lighting of the office – provided in part by the large, windowed wall that overlooked the village and the mountainous peaks and sheer cliffs upon which it sat – the nearly palpable aura of gloom and simmering frustration which emanated from the Fourth Raikage, who had a large presence that could fill an entire amphitheater, gave the usually spacious and open room a pervasive sense of suffocating claustrophobia. This, of course, made it very hard for the four ninja standing at attention before him to stay upright, as the pressure of his glare at the moment was heavy enough to easily drop a large bull elephant within seconds. But they persevered, for they were the best of the best, the _crème de la crème_ of the Village Hidden in the Clouds, the second strongest team in all the Land of Lightning (of which two members were also counted part of the True Strongest Team, which was not so much an actual official squad as it was a hypothetical dream team).

The leader of the four man team, a tall black man with shaggy white hair and long bangs that covered one of his eyes, who wore a white one-strap-over-one-shoulder flak jacket on top of a black sleeveless uniform and carried on his back a folded sword with a blade nearly as broad as it was long, stood firm as he faced the heavy gaze of his Boss with no signs of wavering anytime soon. On his right shoulder was a tattoo of the kanji 水, water, and on his left shoulder was a matching tattoo for the kanji 雷, lightning, signifying the dual elemental nature of the rare bloodline limit – _ranton_, literally storm release – that manifested in him and set him apart from the average rank-and-file shinobi. He was Darui, who was called the Right Hand of the Raikage.

To Darui's right stood a slender kunoichi of strong but graceful bearing. Her long, golden blonde hair was bound and tied back with tightly wrapped bandages, and she wore a darkly colored, black and purple blouse with short sleeves and plain black pants. On her hands were purple fingerless gloves, and her arms and legs were also wrapped in bandages, which was a fashion common to and indicative of dedicated taijutsu specialists, having evolved from the practice of wrapping gauze around one's hands to mitigate the risk of the nasty splinters or cuts while training one's punching on logs or similar targets. Upon her head she wore the _hitai-ate_, forehead protector, of a Cloud ninja. She was Yugito Nii, the village's finest kunoichi and the vessel of the Two-Tailed Nekomata; a jinchūriki whom even Killer Bee respected and admired.

Past Yugito stood a pale young man with dark eyes and short, somewhat messy blond hair. He was dressed in the same manner as Darui, with a sleeveless black shirt and white single-shoulder flak jacket. He also wore black, elbow-length arm-guards on his forearms. His build was more lithe and a less muscular than Darui's, and built more for speed and agility than strength and stability. He also carried no visible weapons on his person, for he was not a direct fighter like the other two, but a support unit trained in medical and sensory ninjutsu, as well as possessing a formidable talent for genjutsu. He was Cee, and while he was perhaps the weakest and least experienced fighter on his squad, he was nonetheless still an invaluable member of the team.

Lastly, standing next to Cee, was a man who appeared to be in his early-to-mid-thirties. His brown hair grew in long spikes on his head, and his thin eyebrows seemed like they were naturally furrowed above narrow, distinctly slanted eyes. There was a dark green mark running down the bridge of his nose, most likely a type of warrior tattoo as was customary among some ninja families, and he had a fairly strong jaw and well defined cheek bones, which gave his face a rather masculine, though perhaps not exactly _handsome,_ appearance. He wore a scarf wrapped loosely around his neck, along with the standard Cloud ninja uniform – although it was worth noting that his shirt was long-sleeved, in contrast with those of the other three – and a shuriken pouch tied to his thigh, which was the generally accepted place to wear them. This man was Motoi, an expert in wilderness survival, tracking, and navigation, as well as an overall skilled shinobi.

The Fourth Raikage, after several minutes of tense silence, abruptly set his barbell down on his largely bare desk (say what you will about his short temper and generally overbearing manner, but Ay was really quite good at delegating paperwork), the surface of which was pockmarked with a number of roughly fist-shaped indents. With a heavy sigh, he closed his eyes for a moment.

"Cee, Darui, Motoi, Yugito," he began slowly, opening his eyes once more as he addressed the four shinobi assembled before. "Do you know why you are here?"

The four were silent for a second, before Darui stepped forward and said, "... Because you seek news on the results of our search for your brother," he provided in a strangely apologetic tone of voice.

"Hmm..." Ay hummed thoughtfully, something about his demeanor seeming different from normal. "Yes, that is part of it," he said, "but there's more to it than just that... I also called you here to assign you four a mission."

Yugito quirked an eyebrow curiously.

"A mission?" she repeated questioningly, "Didn't you want us here, helping search for some trace of Killer Bee?"

"Yes," Ay replied, unusually calm, "I _did_. But the situation... seems to be different than we thought," he confessed.

"How so, if I may ask?" inquired Cee in an awkwardly polite manner, apparently still feeling a bit uncomfortable with speaking directly to the Raikage.

"It would seem," Ay's lovely assistant Mabui spoke up, stepping out from behind her boss, "That the mission brought before us by that Snape character was, it would now seem, _not_ simply a ruse to get him into the village to abduct Lord Bee."

Motoi, a longtime friend of Bee's, even if he did not necessarily think of himself as such, eyed the Raikage's secretary intently, a glint of some indiscernible emotion in his eyes.

"What proof is there of this, Miss Mabui?" he asked, his voice carefully even.

Mabui smiled ever so slightly, before nodding her head and saying, "Well, as you all know, there were a number of small holes in the abduction theory, certain discrepancies that weakened its credibility, such as the largely matching eyewitness testimonies of seven different citizens who each asserted the willing departure of Team Samui after Bee, presumably to join him on the alleged mission. But those were all mostly either circumstantial or conjectural, and not nearly strong enough to discredit the abduction theory... No, the reason we now believe that the mission was not in fact a hoax came in through the window of Lord Ay's bedroom early this morning."

Darui frowned, and Yugito quirked her other eyebrow to join the first one.

"Through his bedroom window...?" Darui murmured incredulously.

"Yes," said Mabui, giving a curt nod, "At approximately aught five hundred this morning, an owl flew in through Lord Ay's bedroom window. Attached to its leg was a mission report from Lord Bee detailing the current progress of his assignment."

"Are we sure it's the real thing...?" Cee inquired dubiously. "Could it be a forgery?"

"No," Mabui replied. "It passed both the standard and advanced handwriting tests, the latter of which, as you know, has an average accuracy rate of ninety-nine and ninety-six hundredths percent."

She paused for a moment, softly biting her lip, before adding, "... and, even before that, it was still obvious... the analysis was just a formality, really..." she muttered, before more loudly saying, "There was never any doubt, to be perfectly honest... From the moment I laid eyes on the message, it was clear to see that Lord Bee truly did send it."

Motoi frowned.

"Oh, is that so? Do you mind if I see it, then?" he asked her.

Mabui frowned slightly and glanced towards the Raikage, who nodded, scowling at nothing in particular. Seeing this, she nodded softly, muttering something to herself as she fished a scroll, the kind used for standard mid-mission status reports, out of her blouse.

"Here," she said, handing the scroll to Motoi, who carefully unrolled it and started reading.

Almost immediately, he sweat-dropped.

"Ahh..." he sighed, "I see what you mean..." He shook his head. "That guy... Lord Bee really is something else, isn't he..."

Yugito and Darui, stealing a look at the note over either of Motoi's shoulders, sweat-dropped as well.

"Man," Darui mumbled, "That is... completely unbelievable."

"Entirely unprofessional," Yugito added with a short nod.

Cee, peeking over Yugito's shoulder, skimmed the contents of the message before sighing.

"Are those... rap lyrics in the margins...?" the young blond muttered disbelievingly.

As one, the three sighed and shook their heads.

"_That's just like him_," they chorused in exasperation.

**TTFN and R&R!**

* * *

_translation notes:_

_none_


	33. A Come From Behind Victory

**Remember the Name**

A _Naruto _x _Harry Potter_ Crossover

By

EvilFuzzy9

_"If strength were all, tiger would not fear scorpion."_

- Warner Oland as Charlie Chan

* * *

**A/N: Quite a few reviewers have asked me if the riddle in the first chapter is of my own making, and yes, it is. I have long been fond of poetry and the like, and I have a decent affinity for it, so once I got a spark of inspiration for it, the riddle was not much trouble to come up with.**

**And on another note, this is a chapter that I've been wanting to do for a while, if only to establish my own idea of how ninja of the **_**Naruto**_** universe might fare against wizards as depicted in **_**Harry Potter**_**. It's all in good fun, of course, and I have at least one big, possibly obvious exception to the balance of power I establish in this chapter. **

* * *

For a ninja, preparedness was everything. To be prepared for any eventuality, no matter how unlikely or even flat out impossible, was something that any decent shinobi would strive for.

A ninja also was expected to train constantly, to be forever honing their skills. Anything less than an hour of intensive training a day, for a full time ninja, was considered inexcusably neglectful, and that was just if you wanted to keep yourself from getting rusty. Diligence in training was one of the highest practical virtues of the shinobi. Whether it was through meditation or exercise, a ninja was expected to be continually seeking the perfect balance of body and mind.

Being prepared at all times for live combat was a necessity for a ninja, and a crucial part of this was knowing who your enemies were. If you knew your enemies and how they fought, then you could prepare strategies to neutralize their strengths and moves to finish them off with minimal risk to your personal wellbeing. Learning everything you could about the enemy was the surest path to victory in the world of the shinobi. In other words, knowledge was power, and power was something that ninja sought fervently and guarded jealously.

_ As you know thyself, know thy foe,_

_ And you shall surely lay him low._

This was one of the cardinal rules of the ninja, a philosophy upheld by shinobi throughout the elemental nations. This credo was as faithfully followed in the Cloud as it was in the Sand or the Mist.

This was no different for Team Samui than it was for anyone else in their world of ninja and subterfuge. And as they were now to be going up against enemies the like of which they had never encountered before, it was only logical that they should seek to learn as much as they could about magic and how they might fight it. Which was why, after finishing the meeting and then breakfast, they had gathered in a hastily cleared out room, standing ready for action opposite Messrs Moony and Padfoot, a.k.a. Remus Lupin and Sirius Black.

"So, are you three absolutely certain about this?" Lupin asked the members of Team Samui. "I mean, not to cast any aspersions on your abilities or anything, but, asking us not to hold anything back... I'd rather not hurt any of you if I can avoid it..."

"Don't baby them, Remus," Sirius said flippantly. "If they want to have us wipe the floor with them, then that's their prerogative."

"We ah no so easy to beat!" Karui sniped, defiantly sticking her tongue out at the two Marauders. "We ah veddy tough and dane-jelly-us."

"_'Dangerous'_, Karui," Samui casually corrected her teammate, seeming utterly unperturbed by the prospect of facing off against Sirius and Remus.

Sirius laughed.

"Dangerous, eh? Well, you aren't the only ones – so are me and Remus," he told them conversationally as he lazily twiddled his wand between his fingers. "We might not have made it as aurors, perhaps, but we're still a very capable pair of duelists."

Omoi did not look very heartened by this news, but a quick glare from Karui shut him up right quick.

Wary of his volatile teammate's eyes on him, Omoi turned towards the pair of older wizards and said, "I-I don't care how good you are. You shouldn't take us lightly." His voice grew firmer, and an expression of cool confidence emerged on his face. "Even if this is just a spar," he continued, a steely glint in his eyes, "our pride as ninja of the Cloud is at stake. We won't be holding back, so neither should you. Not if you want to walk away from this with all of you limbs intact... Yeah, even if you change us into toads, even if you turn our bones into jelly, even if you fill our lungs with acid, we won't... we won't... we won't..."

He faltered now, looking more nervous with each iteration of "we won't..." and no longer looking quite so confident.

"...uh... can I take a pass on this session? I... I don't feel too good," he said weakly, and he did indeed look a little pale.

Karui, in response to this, smacked Omoi on the back of the head.

"_Don't be such a wimp, dammit!_" she snapped at him in their native tongue. "_You're a Cloud j__ō__nin! So be a man for once in your life and grow a freakin' backbone, O__moi!_"

"_Oy, oy, oy,_" Omoi scowled. "_I was only kidding... There's no need to get violent. Sheesh._"

Karui snorted. "_Whatever. Let's just get started already! We aren't gonna get any better just standing here, after all!_"

Samui nodded, saying, "Karui's right, for once. We're wasting time, just standing here and quibbling over whether or not to do this."

She slipped into a combat ready stance, a hand at her side and ready to grip her tantō at a moment's notice.

"If we want to prepare for fighting against Death Eaters," she continued clinically, "then this is the best way to do it."

Karui, who had been glowering at Samui over the 'for once' remark, grinned dangerously and cracked her knuckles.

"Tha' is moah like i'," she said with a look of almost feral glee. "Is be too long time with no fight. Was boring."

Omoi, seeing that neither of his teammates were likely to be deterred, sighed and gave a shrug.

"Well, alright then," he said somewhat reluctantly, carefully drawing his katana from its sheath on his back and getting into a ready stance. "If I have to do this, I suppose I might as well give it my all... At least, that's what _aniki_ always used to tell me..."

"Very well," Lupin said, drawing his wand, "If you're absolutely certain, then let's begin."

Like flipping a switch, the three Cloud ninja instantly jumped into action.

Omoi, his katana at the ready, hopped over to the left while Samui took the right flank and Karui charged right down the middle.

Sirius, reacting to the sudden movement with reflexes that not even a dozen years in Azkaban could take away from him completely, launched a Knockback Jinx at Karui with a cry of "_Flipendo!_" while Lupin shot Omoi with a Disarming Charm, yelling "_Expelliarmus!_"

Karui was the first to drop, the Knockback Jinx slamming into her like a super-powered sucker punch as it countered her momentum and dropped her right on her behind. She was momentarily dazed, and Omoi's katana just barely missed her as it shot out of his hands despite his best effort to keep it tightly gripped.

Samui, having now gotten a good idea of how quickly a spell could shoot from wand to target, narrowly managed to dodge a teal jet of light from Lupin's wand, and was almost right on top of the pair when she suddenly felt an invisible force grab hold of her feet and lift her up into the air. Unconsciously pressing her hands down (up?) on the hem of her skirt to keep it from sliding up (down?) her hips, she fought vainly to break the hold of whatever it was that had taken hold of her feet and lifted her up into the air.

Omoi for his part, once he felt his fingers get pried apart and saw his sword fly out of his hands, veered away from the aim Remus and Sirius's wands with a quick _shunshin_ and swiftly circled around to hit them from behind. He was about to strike when he saw Samui get hoisted up into the air by her feet like some kind of rag doll after nearly getting in range to attack.

Deciding to try a different approach from melee, Omoi deftly slipped a pair of shuriken out of his shuriken holster and flung them at the backs of the two Order members.

Omoi thought he'd done pretty well with that tactic, certain that Sirius and Remus couldn't have possibly seen him from their position, but he must have been detected somehow, because before the two throwing stars could even come close to hitting the pair, they were plucked from the air by invisible fingers and sent right back at him. He barely managed to dodge them, and before he could manage to gather his wits to try something else, he was rammed into ground by Samui's body, though considering the fact that she was still levitating upside down in mid air when she collided with him, she probably wasn't the one responsible.

By this point, while Omoi was struggling to push Samui off of him and Samui was doing... nothing, apparently... Karui had gotten back onto her feet and was once again charging Sirius and Remus head on, sword in hand. Naturally, she was quickly sent into the opposite wall by the combined force of Lupin's Impediment Jinx and Sirius's Disarming Charm, twin cries of "_Impedimentia!_" and "_Expelliarmus!_" ringing in her ears as her sword planted itself into the floor at Black's feet.

Then she was engulfed in a puff of white smoke, and when it cleared, instead of Karui slumped bonelessly against the wall, there was a snapped and broken chair.

Belatedly realizing that they had been tricked, Sirius and Remus barely had any time to react before they each felt something slam into the back of their neck, stars dancing in their vision as they were slammed into the ground by Karui, who had pounced on them from behind and wrapped an arm around each of their necks, driving them down to the floor with a resounding cry of "_LARIATTO!_"

Omoi, seeing this, shot Karui a grin, and even Samui could not help but quirk up her lips at the sight of the energetic redhead decisively turning the tables on their instructors and ending the spar with a twin flying northern lariat. And after such a short, but utterly one-sided fight, a literal come-from-behind victory like that was like nothing else.

...Now they just had to hope that Karui hadn't hurt either Sirius or Remus _too_ badly.

**TTFN and R&R!**

* * *

_translation notes:_

_"aniki" - big brother_

_"shunshin" - body flicker_

_"lariatto/rariatto/lariat" - not actually Japanese, but it's worth mentioning that in the manga it's written using the kanji __雷犂熱刀 __(lightning plough hot sword), which would normally be pronounced "rairi nettō"_


	34. A Visit to Nurse Molly

**Remember the Name**

A _Naruto _x _Harry Potter_ Crossover

By

EvilFuzzy9

_"You can always count on Americans to do the right thing - after they've tried everything else."_

- Winston Churchill

* * *

**A/N: Happy Fourth of July to my fellow American readers! And to those of you readers who don't celebrate Independence Day: Happy Wednesday! To celebrate the birthday of the greatest country on earth (at least, for one day out of every 365), here's another chapter of Remember the Name, this one starring Sirius and Remus plus everyone's favorite overprotective mum. Also, disregard the fact that I probably would have updated anyways.**

* * *

Molly tutted disapprovingly as she eyed the two wizards standing before her. Sirius was missing a couple of teeth, and Lupin looked like he had a broken nose, considering the odd angle it was sitting at and the way it was spewing blood.

The three of them were in a decently sized room at Grimmauld Place, one that had been re-purposed by the Order to serve as a makeshift infirmary for any injuries that could not be brought to an official healer without raising too many questions. It wasn't equipped to deal with everything, and many of the Order members would often forgo treatment entirely for whatever silly reason, but Molly was a decent enough healer – she had to be, with so many children – and what potions they _did_ have in stock were of significantly higher-than-average quality, thanks to Severus Snape's prodigious talent in the subtle and often difficult art of potion-making.

"Honestly, of all the foolish things..." Mrs. Weasley muttered, clicking her tongue disapprovingly as she gave Remus and Sirius a good once over. "How on _earth_ did the two of you get it into your heads to pick a fight with those three?"

"We weren't 'picking a fight'," Sirius sourly protested for the umpteenth time, "We were helping them train to fight Death Eaters."

"By letting them smash your faces in?" Molly asked, her expression the very picture of skepticism.

"Well dow, we 'ardly _let _theb," Lupin argued even he pinched his nostrils shut in a futile effort to stem the blood flow. "They could't even lay a 'add odd either of us 'til the very edd. Add eddyways, it wuzzid't the three of them 'oo did it, just Karui."

"That's not the point!" Molly said with a huff. "Getting into fights with fellow Order members, then expecting me to patch you up afterwards..." she muttered darkly, "Honestly, how old do you two think you are?"

"Not too old that we can't benefit from a friendly duel..." Sirius grumbled mutinously.

Molly glared daggers at Sirius and sharply prodded his bruised temple, eliciting a pained yelp from the man.

"If this is how you look after just a 'friendly duel'," the Weasley matriarch said lowly, the steely tone of her voice and fearsome glint in her eyes leaving no doubt that she was indeed the sister of Gideon and Fabian Prewett, "then I am quite glad Dumbledore has ordered you to stay here and out of the fight!" she sniped sharply, "I can't even imagine how badly off you would be if you got into a _real_ fight with Death Eaters..." she muttered darkly.

Sirius glowered at that remark, a rather difficult expression to pull off with a black eye and three missing teeth, but he managed.

"Don't be difficult, Sirius Black!" Molly said snippily at the look on the man's face before turning around to rifle through the medicine cabinet.

Sirius sighed silently, shooting a very nasty look at Lupin, who had been the one to insist on going to Molly with their injuries in the first place.

"Where is it..." he heard Molly mutter as she sifted through jars and bottles and flasks of various healing and restorative draughts. "Is this...? ...No, that's not it... Not this, either... No... No... _Definitely_ not this... No... No... ... ... Aha! Here it is..."

Emerging from the cabinet, Mrs. Weasley poured out a carefully measured amount of some congealing, off-white potion. When she was finished, she shoved the thick, vile smelling concoction under Sirius's nose, causing him to nearly gag.

"Drink this," she said tersely, before turning to tend to Lupin.

Sirius suspiciously eyed the gobletful of potion that the Weasley matriarch had forced into his hands. He was reluctant to drink it, and not only because of the smell.

If Sirius was to be perfectly honest, he'd have to say that it seemed like Molly hated him. She was often at odds with him, and she disapproved frequently and vocally of what she perceived as blind recklessness. He supposed she might still have been a bit upset about him breaking Ron's leg in his third year, but that was two years ago, and it had hardly taken more than a day or two of bedrest to clear up.

Chancing a glance over at Remus, who was looking appropriately chastised as the somewhat short and dumpy mother of seven unceremoniously snapped his nose back into position before tapping it with her wand and muttering a spell under her breath.

"You're lucky I'm as good at this as I am, and that the damage to your nose was as minor as it was." Sirius heard the redheaded woman remark shortly as she inspected Lupin's nose which was once more in its proper shape and position. "Mending cartilage is a tricky thing at the best of times, and I..." she paused, catching Sirius's glance and noticing the still full goblet in his hands. "Oh, for Merlin's sake, Sirius!" she sighed, "It's just tooth regrowing potion. It won't kill you!"

Deciding to take the domineering mother's advice at face value, and not wanting to get her any snappier with him than she already was, Sirius screwed his eyes and downed the goblet in one go.

He shuddered at the taste, which like with most medicinal potions was simply awful. It was indescribably bitter, and if it weren't for plenty of prior experience with these kinds of potions (he and James had gotten into more than their share of knock-down drag-out brawls during their time at Hogwarts, and by their seventh year the two of them had specially reserved beds in the Hospital Wing) Sirius would have gone along with the immediate, instinctive urge to spit this horrid stuff right back out. As it was, he drank it all without complaint, and thankfully the aftertaste was not nearly so bad, being actually rather pleasantly minty.

"There," said Molly, looking almost-just-barely pleased. "That wasn't so bad, was it? Now, you'd better not eat or anything before the teeth have had time to grow back in, or they'll be liable to come in wrong."

Sirius barely failed to restrain a frustrated groan at this, Molly's words bringing back memories of having to spend a long, unpleasant night in the Hospital Wing with no food or drink on more than one occasion.

Molly, hearing Sirius groan, tutted and fixed him with a hard look.

"Don't complain," she said warningly, "That's the price you have to pay for getting yourself injured! If we're lucky, maybe this will even teach you not to go around getting into fights."

Sirius – and Remus – groaned at the sound of the beginnings of another lecture from the formidable Weasley matriarch.

**TTFN and R&R!**

* * *

_translation notes:_

_none_


	35. Reviewing the Fight with Closet Perverts

**Remember the Name**

A _Naruto _x _Harry Potter_ Crossover

By

EvilFuzzy9

_"Life is like playing the violin in public and learning the instrument as one goes on."_

- Samuel Butler

* * *

**A/N: I had a lot of trouble with this chapter, and I needed to rewrite it a couple of times before I had something that I was happy with, which is why it took me a few days to update. And I was watching more of **_**Rock Lee & His Ninja Pals**_** on Crunchyroll while working on the last part of this chapter, to help get me into the right mindset for this fic. I think it worked reasonably well.  
**

**And yes, I have now made Samui a closet **_**Icha Icha **_**fan. Who apparently ships Karui x Omoi. Yeah, I don't know what the heck happened while I was writing, except that RL&HNP is like crack in audiovisual form.**

* * *

"So that's the power of magic, huh..." Omoi muttered in Japanese as he settled onto the end of the bed in one of the 'guest rooms' that had been set aside for members of the Order who needed a secure place to rest. "It really is something else, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Karui said with a pained sort of grimace, "It really is." She then grinned. "But, hey, we still managed to kick their asses!" she added brightly. "That's got to count for _something_."

Samui shot Karui a Look, before she shook her head.

"Don't lie, Karui – to us _or_ yourself," she said sternly, causing her teammate to deflate. "What happened back there was hardly a victory. It wasn't a long spar, but they were almost completely in control of the fight right up until the end, and that was with a numerical advantage on our side. We were lucky you got a shot in as soon as you did, and that they didn't see through it when you used that replacement technique."

Karui scowled halfheartedly.

"You're exaggerating..." she grumbled. "It wasn't luck that we won. We had them on their toes the whole time we were fighting – they knew that if we got near them, it would be over. They were on the defensive the whole time!" she insisted.

"What...?" Omoi started, a frown on his face. "Do you mean you didn't notice?"

"Eh?" Karui's scowl deepened. "Notice? Notice _what_?"

Omoi sighed, looking Karui straight in the eyes as he said, "For the entire spar... Not _once _did they have to move so much as an inch from their starting position."

Karui's eyes widened as she processed this. Her jaw dropped so far that it looked like it was liable to fall right off.

"No way..." she muttered, "That can't be right... I mean, not even _once?_ I ask you..." Karui shook her head, seemingly unable to accept what she had just heard.

"He's right, you know," said Samui, from where she was sitting at the head of the bed. "They didn't move at all. They didn't _need to_."

"What the hell..." Karui gaped. "This can't be real... I mean, we _beat them!_"

"But they were still in control of the fight for nearly the entire time," Samui replied.

Karui swore, dropping down onto the bed between Omoi and Samui.

"So magic can even do something like that, after all..." the redhead murmured. "Damn!" she cursed, "We really _are_ gonna need to seriously shape up if we want to survive this, aren't we?"

Samui nodded, and Karui swore again.

"_Shit!_ I'm gonna have to really put my nose to the grindstone," she groaned. "And that's not even counting all the work I'll need to put into studying sealing..."

Samui frowned at this.

"That's right..." the blonde muttered. "That reminds me of something you said during the meeting... When Dumbledore said you were going to be going under cover at the school, under the pretence of reparing and updating the wards there..." She frowned. "I thought you couldn't stand sealing, but then here you are taking on a job like that, and talking about studying it... And Omoi..."

Her expression turned curious as she directed a questioning look at her male teammate.

"...what _was_ that, about you 'making a good point'...?" she inquired thoughtfully. "I didn't think there was anything that could make Karui change her mind about studying sealing arts, but apparently I was wrong..."

"I don't know," Omoi said with a shrug, "All I did was tell her that she had a lot of talent, and that it would be a shame for it to go to waste..."

"Ohhh?" Samui said, a sly grin forming on her face as she sniggered quietly. "So a simple motivational speech like that was all it took, huh...? Cool."

"Oy, oy, oy..." Karui muttered, "What's with that expression on your face? And that giggling... It almost sounds like you've got your mind in the gutter..."

"...So you two are like _that_, after all..." said Samui, a mischievous expression on her face.

Karui and Omoi sweat-dropped.

"Oyyyy..." Omoi grumbled. "Getting like that over something so innocuous... And people say _I_ have an overactive imagination..."

"That's because you do," Karui sniped. "But Samui... She just reads too many of those trashy romance novels... 'Itchy Itchy' something or other, I think they're called."

"'_Icha Icha_'," Samui corrected automatically. "And they're no trashier than those comics of yours you think nobody knows about," she added.

"Ehhh?-! You know about those?-!" Karui exclaimed, astonished. "Ah! Er, I mean... _Ahem!_" She coughed. "That is to say... I have no idea what you're talking about!" she insisted.

"Sure. Whatever you say," Samui replied with a knowing smirk and a dismissive wave of her hand.

**TTFN and R&R!**

* * *

_translation notes:_

_none_


	36. Bonding and Musing

**Remember the Name**

A _Naruto _x _Harry Potter_ Crossover

By

EvilFuzzy9

_"No job is so simple that it cannot be done wrong."_

- Fortune Cookie

* * *

**A/N: **_**Skyward Sword**_** is an addictive game, one which I've been playing a lot of in the past week or so after waiting since Christmas to be able to play it. I've only just finished the first trial though, so no spoilers! ;) **

**Also, my grandma Karen is staying over for a bit, so I might not have as much time for writing for a while.**

* * *

"Still..." Samui said once Karui had finally settled down and stopped frantically denying her claims, "I'm curious as to why Dumbledore would choose _you_ to go undercover at the school. After all, you have only a passable knowledge of English. If he wants someone keeping an eye on the students, then wouldn't it only make sense to pick someone who would actually be able to understand anything they might say?"

Omoi frowned. "That's a good point..." he muttered, looking askance at Karui. "Communication is important, after all. It wouldn't do for there to be any misunderstandings..."

Karui huffed indignantly, crossing her arms over her chest as she scowled at the pair. "I can understand it just fine, though," she grumbled, "It's only _speaking it _that still gives me trouble. And, anyways, it's not like I'll be interviewing them in the halls, or something!" she explained impatiently, "The old man just wants someone who can keep an extra eye on the brats, since he figures the teachers will have their hands full this year, what with like half of them also being members of the Order."

"And the cover story?" Samui drawled, eying her teammate curiously.

Karui's cheeks darkened, and she started idly tracing invisible circles on the bed covers.

"Well..." she mumbled awkwardly, "It's like I told Omoi earlier: I need to get stronger. And if that means studying seals... then I'll do it."

Samui nodded in understanding. "I see... That's a pretty cool attitude to take. I'm impressed, Karui." She smiled softly. "It's nice to hear that you've decided to finally let go of that petty grudge."

Karui scowled. "It's not petty," she grumbled indignantly, "and it's not a grudge. I'll never forgive those bastards... any of them. I'm not one of them. I never have been. Just because I've decided to study sealing doesn't mean I think of myself as _Uzumaki!_"she snarled.

Omoi winced. "Yeah, yeah, we get it, we get it," he said. "You're Karui. _Just_ Karui. Even if that blood runs in your veins..."

"... I'm still a ninja of the Cloud, born and raised," the redhead finished firmly and bitterly. "No matter what anyone else might think, I'm _glad_ those Whirlpool bastards were wiped off the face of the map."

Samui smiled sadly. "It's hard..." she started softly, her words barely audible. "I know it is. We're a lot alike, the three of us... but also... so very different."

Karui snorted, but otherwise didn't interrupt.

"Yeah, we are, aren't we...?" Omoi mused. "People expect such great things from us, since we're our sensei's students, but... we've got a long way to go yet... I'm still leagues away from catching up with my brother..."

"Heh," Karui chuckled. "You talk like that, but you haven't even tried to learn any of his Storm Release techniques..."

Omoi made a face at this and shook his head. "No... That's because I don't have the talent for it."

Samui raised an eyebrow. "No talent?" she drawled. "That doesn't sound right. You're a natural with elemental jutsu, Omoi, and an excellent swordfighter and tactician, besides. Unlike Karui, your only problem is a lack of confidence."

The redhead in question rounded on Samui, glaring daggers.

"Hey!" she snapped. "What's that supposed to mean?-!"

"Just that you're overconfident," Samui replied easily.

"And I suppose you _aren't_, Miss Don't-worry-guys-I-can-handle-this?"

"Of course not," Samui said airily. "I have a perfectly comprehensive understanding of my own strengths and weaknesses. You, however, unfailingly manage to let your temper get the better of you time and time again, and charge straight into fights with no regard for your own well being."

Karui growled mutinously. "_Oy!_ Just because you're too much of a coward to take your opponents head on — !"

_" _— _Excuse me," _came the sound of their client's voice, interrupting Karui in mid-sentence. Looking around, they spotted the man's phoenix patronus hovering in the doorway. _"But I would seem to have some very interesting news for all of you, as well as the details for your next assignment, Omoi, Samui. I shall be awaiting you inside the heavily warded room on the first floor of the Headquarters. To prevent this message from falling into the wrong hands, this patronus will now self destruct in three... two... one."_

There was a blinding flash of silvery light and loud BANG as the patronus exploded, leaving behind three grumbling Cloud ninja rubbing their eyes and cursing that damn old man's twisted sense of humor.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore smiled genially as waited in the small study he had appropriated on the first floor of Number Twelve, feeling the wave of tingling warmth that washed over him, indicating the detonation of his patronus and thus the successful delivery of his message to its recipients.

Humming pleasantly to himself under his breath, he cordially dismissed Slughorn, who was looking decidedly unwell. And Dumbledore could not blame him. After all, the memory the man had just shown him was incredibly incriminating, and under normal circumstances Horace would be looking at a very steep penalty for what he had done all those years ago. But the circumstances here were far from normal, and Dumbledore had no desire to punish his friend for a mistake he'd made so long ago. Especially not considering how valuable the information he had obtained from that memory was.

It was no relief to Dumbledore for his theory to gain proof such as this, as it meant that young Riddle had gone even farther down that dark path than perhaps any wizard or witch in all of history... He'd had his suspicions for a long while, well before that fateful night on All Hallows Eve, close to fourteen years ago, when that immeasurably brilliant girl somehow managed to tap into the First Magic and save the life of her son in exchange for her own, buying him and the entire Wizarding World nearly thirteen years of peace in which to rebuild and grow stronger. Yes, it would far from exaggerating to say that young Lily Potter had almost singlehandedly managed to stop the Darkest Dark Lord in ages, even if only temporarily.

In happier times, it had been a source of great amusement for Dumbledore to imagine how those crusty old pureblood supremacists on the Wizengamot would take it if they realized that the destruction of You-Know-Who had been due to nothing less than a young muggleborn witch managing to harness a nearly-lost ancient magic to save the life of her halfblood child. But these were not happy times, and they were not likely to improve anytime soon. War was coming, whether they wanted it or not, and there was nothing to do but fight.

Still, Dumbledore thought as he heard the door open and saw Team Samui walk in, he would do his best to keep the bloodshed from staining the children of his school – every last one of them. He was the Headmaster of the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and he would do everything within his considerable power to keep his students safe.

"Good day," he said in Japanese, addressing the three ninja, "Come in and make yourselves comfortable, if you so wish. But be quick about it, for I have much to tell you and precious little time to spare."

**TTFN and R&R!**

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_translation notes:_

_none_


	37. Prelude to Evil

**Remember the Name**

A _Naruto _x _Harry Potter_ Crossover

By

EvilFuzzy9

_"Poetry, whose material is language, is perhaps the most human and least worldly of the arts, the one in which the end product remains closest to the thought that inspired it... Of all things of thought, poetry is the closest to thought, and a poem is less a thing than any other work of art..." _

– Hannah Arendt

* * *

**A/N: This chapter was a real chore to write, for some reason. I just couldn't focus on it much. Luckily, the next one has proven much easier, and it will be an extra long one, in celebration of the fact that the first few chapters of **_**Chamber of Secrets **_**on Pottermore are now up.**

**Also, the Pensieve Poem (you'll know it when you see it) is my own invention, though you're free to borrow as long as you give credit where credit is due. :P**

* * *

When it comes to magic, there are certain laws that every witch and wizard must adhere to, or else risk serious consequences – and I do not mean Ministry regulations and guidelines. These laws are what define the limits of magic, what can and cannot be done with it.

Magic, at its most basic level, is the process by which the Mind directly affects the Matter of the world around it. In its purest expression, magic is the power to change the world to reflect one's own desires, the power to make an illusion reality and reality an illusion. But this incredible power is not without limitations. All things have a cost, and no person can change the world around them with being altered themselves in some way, shape, or fashion. And the greater the change, the greater the cost. Now, most witches and wizards would never notice this within their lifetimes, as most magic had only a very little cost.

Most magic, but not all. For most spells, the toll was immaterial, but for some it was simply all too steep. Prices too high for any mortal to pay.

That was where the Fundamental Laws of Magic came into play, defining the boundaries of what men and woman could and could not accomplish without breaking themselves, and their magic, in the process. And the First Law was the most important.

_"Tamper with the deepest mysteries – the source or life, the essence of self – only if prepared for consequences of the most extreme and dangerous kind."_

Dumbledore pondered this and many other things as he led the trio of Cloud ninja to his Pensieve, which was swirling with the silvery-white substance of countless memories.

"So..." Omoi began awkwardly, looking around the small, sparsely furnished room. "...You wanted to tell us something, right? What is it?"

Dumbledore sighed. "Indeed, I do have something to tell you..." he said absently, sounding like his mind was presently occupied elsewhere. "And it is... hard... a very difficult thing to say... showing it to you may prove easier, of course... luckily, I still have the memory..." he muttered under his breath, hustling about and sifting through dusty old grimoires, swishing his wand here and there, levitating books and papers into and out of shelves and drawers.

Samui nodded softly, she and her team standing (more or less) at attention, patiently waiting for their employer to finish his train of thought and get to the point. Karui was scowling as she fidgeted with her headband, frustratedly worrying at a strand of her vivid, blood red hair. Omoi was chewing on his lip, eyes darting this way and that as he ran increasingly outlandish scenarios through his head as he silently fretted over the possible reasons for this meeting.

Dumbledore eventually turned his attention back to Team Samui, a weary look in his eyes. Silently, he gestured towards some sort of ornate stone basin, within which was a strangely swirling, silvery-white substance.

The trio stepped forward, their expressions showing varying levels of curiosity.

"What is that?" Samui inquired disinterestedly, gesturing at the ornate vessel and the fluid that filled it.

"I dunno..." said Omoi, shooting a questioning look at Dumbledore, who simply smiled at them indulgently, seemingly amused by their curiosity. "But those symbols on the rim look like they must mean something."

"I think it's a seal of some sort..." Karui muttered, analyzing the runes that lined the rim. "The overall meaning isn't clear, but... I'm seeing something that looks like 'memory', another character that looks like 'view' or maybe 'vision', and something about portals or windows into the past..."

She scowled, scratching her head and mussing up her hair in frustration.

"Gah! This is just a bunch of gibberish!" the redhead snapped impatiently. "I don't get how this seal is supposed to work _at all!_"

"I'm surprised you can even read it," Omoi responded. "I know a little about seal languages, but this doesn't look like anything I've ever seen before..."

Karui gave her teammate a look like she thought he was a complete idiot.

"Of course I can't _read_ it," she shot back, "but it's not too hard to pick up on most of the meaning. You just have to _feel it out_," she explained, speaking slowly as if she were talking to a particularly dense academy student. "The characters themselves aren't that important in sealing languages, you see. It's all about the meaning behind them, and the intent of the person writing them. As long as you understand the meaning, it doesn't matter what language the seal is written in. Do you get it?"

Omoi stared at her, eyes half-lidded as he deadpanned, "Oy, oy... You couldn't explain swimming to a fish, you know... Not even if you used diagrams."

Karui smacked her male teammate on the back of the head.

"Bah. You're just too stupid!" she sniped back. "This is simple stuff. Even a _little baby genin_ could understand it!"

Omoi bristled at this. "And _what_ are you implying?" he demanded.

Karui snorted. "I'm not _implying_ anything, jackass. I'm _saying _that you're an _idiot!_"

Samui sighed as she watched the mounting animosity between her two teammates. And to think that only a few minutes earlier they'd actually been bonding... What a headache.

* * *

Elsewhere, in a certain office at the Ministry of Magic beneath London, a certain bureaucrat was irritably sipping at a heavily sweetened cup of tea. The handle of the fluorescent pink teacup groaned as the death grip of the portly, pink clad quill-pusher put a nearly critical amount of undue stress on its structure. Her face, reminiscent in shape to that of a toad, was currently a violent shade of red as mean eyes glared death at a picture of a skinny, awkwardly smiling boy with messy black hair, striking green eyes, and a scar on his forehead in the shape of a lightning bolt.

The woman, Dolores J. Umbridge, Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic, was in a very foul mood indeed as she glared at the picture of one Harry Potter, hissing under her breath with her eyes nearly bulging out of her head. Her blinding pink cardigan was ruffled and bedraggled, and she looked like she wanted nothing more than to reach into the picture and throttle the boy with her bare hands. Or cast an Unforgivable or two on him. Whichever came first, really.

It was most infuriating, how that insufferable boy had stirred up such a panic in the public with his wild, outrageous claims of You-Know-Who's resurrection. If that wasn't bad enough, there was the fact that Dumbledore was even standing behind this boy and continuing to insist that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had returned. It had been a complete fiasco, and the Minister had needed to lean very heavily on the Prophet at first to cover this all up and convince the general public that everything was perfectly fine.

Everything was _not_ fine, however. Potter and Dumbledore still had numerous influential supporters, even despite the boy's outrageous accusations towards several very prominent and respectable wizards. Even though most people still trusted the Ministry and understood that they weren't in any danger, the number of dissidents and malcontents was nonetheless significant enough to represent a serious potential threat to the Ministry.

That boy, Potter, had ruffled a good deal of feathers among the upper echelons of the Wizarding World with his vicious lies, and many of Umbridge's colleagues had expressed their desires for the boy to be somehow discredited. He had done so much damage to the Ministry's reputation and credibility that he could not be ignored. The matter could not be left as it was, they would say, if Potter wasn't silenced, wasn't made an example of, he would continue spreading those wild stories, and who knew what damage he would end up doing? And yet nobody did anything.

Oh, sure, they had done a fine job of discrediting _Dumbledore_ so that only the most hardcore malefactors dared side with him, but the Boy-Who-Lived was another story. People, even if they did not believe the boy, still remembered the picture Miss Skeeter's articles had painted of a broken, traumatized, vulnerable orphan, and more than that, the fact that Potter _was_ the Boy-Who-Lived, the one credited with destroying the Dark Lord and surviving the Killing Curse, the spell with which his parents were slain, with only a thin, lightning bolt scar to show it had ever touched him. Those who did not see the boy as a victim saw him as a hero. In ways, his words could potentially hold even greater sway over the minds of the public than Dumbledore's.

And with the disappearance of the boy from the Wizarding World, as happened every summer when he returned to living with those cretinous muggle relatives of his... Umbridge shivered. If that boy returned to the Wizarding World still insisting that You-Know-Who was back... even with the subtle smear campaign the Prophet was running, even though everything was still as peaceful as ever, people might very well be more inclined to believe him. They might think the boy had spent his summer harrying the Dark Lord's forces, or meditating in the mountains, or studying secret arts in a distant land, or something else equally ridiculous yet thematically compelling.

As long as the boy wasn't present to make claims of the Dark Lord's return, even with the Ministry and the Daily Prophet doing everything in their power to discredit him, his credibility was still at least partly intact. There was still a considerable mystique surrounding Harry Potter, and people might be more inclined to listen to him.

And this simply _could not be allowed._ No, not at all. Something needed to be done, and if anyone was sufficiently devious and cunning to do it, it was Dolores Jane Umbridge.

Yes, if everyone else continued refusing to do anything, then she would simply have to take initiative and do it herself. And she had a good idea of how to start...

Taking a quill and some parchment out of her desk, the Undersecretary to the Minister began to write.

'_To whomever it may concern..._'

* * *

"Sooo... this thing lets you go into a memory?"

"Indeed it does, Miss Karui," said Dumbledore, "Any memory that is stored within this Pensieve can be freely entered and viewed, though of course you cannot influence anything within the memory itself."

Samui nodded in understanding. "So Karui was reading that seal correctly after all..."

"'_Place within my basin any memory you choose, reach beyond my surface if the past you must peruse. I am the vessel and the window for all you recollect, so use me now to store your thoughts, and later to inspect,_'" Dumbledore said in English, reading the sealing runes glowing on the rim of the Pensieve. "It's not an exact translation, I admit, but the meaning is preserved all the same."

His eyes twinkled with humor as he added, "And besides that, I'd daresay it's rather catchier this way, don't you think?"

Omoi chuckled despite himself, and Karui groaned.

"Oh, god, not another one..." the redhead lamented under her breath.

"Hmm, yes," Dumbledore said with a nod, "Your master _does_ have an appreciation for poetry and music much like my own, doesn't he? I must say, he is quite clever with lyrics and rhymes."

Samui smirked at the pained expression on Karui's face, and the bewildered one on Omoi's.

_'Strange minds think alike, I guess.'_

**TTFN and R&R!**

* * *

_translation notes:_

_none_


	38. Start of Darkness

**Remember the Name**

A _Naruto _x _Harry Potter_ Crossover

By

EvilFuzzy9

_"Of the Horcrux, wickedest of magical inventions, we shall not speak nor give direction."_

__- Excerpt from the introduction to _Magick Moste Evile_

* * *

**A/N: This chapter was a **_**lot**_** easier to type than the previous one, in part probably due to the fact that a lot of the first part is grafted from the Pensieve scene in chapter twenty-three of **_**Half-Blood Prince**_**, **_**'Horcruxes'.**_** Of course, I also wrote plenty of original material (inasmuch as any fanfic can be "original") as well, both interspersed and added on. As a result, this chapter is extra, **_**extra**_** long. **

**Also, I think I did an alright job of showing just how dangerous Riddle's charm can be against those who aren't prepared to defend against it, and it helps that the books repeatedly describe him as being **_**very**_** handsome in his youth. And the idea for the enchanted voice thing came from Saruman in **_**Lord of the Rings**_**.**

**Also, also, as a warning, this chapter contains a single instance of the F-word.**

* * *

Omoi, Karui, and Samui looked around at their changed surroundings when they landed, their expressions a mixture of awe and disbelief. Judging by their surroundings they were somewhere in Hogwarts, or a similar place.

Looking around, they saw a much younger Slughorn sitting in a winged armchair, his feet resting on a cushion. He looked to have a small glass of wine in one hand, and the other one was sifting through a box of what looked like some sort of candy. His hair was thick, shiny, and straw-colored, and he looked to be quite merry.

"You weren't kidding..." Omoi muttered, speaking to a grim-faced Dumbledore as he looked around the room at the half dozen teenage boys who were sitting around the younger, but still portly as ever, Slughorn. "It really_ is _like looking into the past."

"Yeah. It's strange to see Professor Slughorn looking so... _young_..." Samui said, even as her eyes alighted not on the red-faced potions master, but on the face of an exceptionally handsome, black-haired young man.

Karui, following Samui's line of sight, beheld the confident young man, idly noting the important-looking, black and gold ring glinting on his finger in the back of her mind even as she gave a wolf whistle.

"_Nice_," she said, humming appreciatively at the sight of the handsome student, who appeared to be the leader of all the other ones, if the admiring looks he was getting from them was any indication. "That one's pretty cute."

Had she looked at Dumbledore at that moment, she would have seen a curious look almost like a blend of pity and regret pass over his face, before he schooled it into a carefully blank expression. But she didn't, and so she didn't.

Samui nodded in agreement, her cheeks slightly pink as she almost shyly said, "Definitely... I certainly wouldn't mind being assigned to seduce _him_."

Omoi groaned silently, rolling his eyes as he pretended to gag. His female teammates ignored him, however, Karui giggling in a rather perverted manner as her eyes ran up and down the young man's frame, eagerly assessing his features. Her face was also rather red as she shot her platonic girlfriend a sly grin.

"Heh heh... I'd do a whole lot more than _seduce_ him, if you know what I mean..." she whispered suggestively as she waggled her eyebrows, before trailing off as she noticed the young man beginning to speak.

"_Sir, is it true that Professor Merrythought is retiring?_" the handsome young man asked the younger Professor Slughorn in English.

"_Tom, Tom, if I knew I couldn't tell you!_" said Slughorn in response, wagging his finger reprovingly at the boy, though winking at the same time. "_I must say, I'd like to know where you get your information, boy, more knowledgeable than half the staff, you are._"

Tom smiled; the other boys laughed and cast him admiring looks. Karui giggled, and even Samui cracked a grin. Omoi was seeming slightly suspicious, though, as he looked at Tom and scowled at him distrustfully. He wasn't noticed by the boy, of course, seeing as how he was merely a memory.

"_What with your uncanny ability to know things you shouldn't,_" Slughorn continued, "_and your careful flattery of the people who matter — thank you for the pineapple, by the way, you're quite right, it is my favorite — _"

Several of the boys tittered again, Karui and Samui uncharacteristically joining in, though Dumbledore sighed sadly and Omoi glared darkly at Tom.

" _— I confidently expect you to rise to Minister of Magic within twenty years — fifteen if you keep sending me pineapple, I have _excellent_ contacts at the Ministry."_

Tom merely smiled as the other boys laughed again. Omoi, still suspicious of the handsome young man, noticed that despite not being the eldest of the group, they all seemed to look up to Tom, like he was their leader.

He scowled, something niggling at the back of his mind, telling him that he should know who this boy was who had so easily charmed his teammates despite being just a memory acting out a predetermined role.

"_I don't think politics would suit me, sir,_" Tom said when the laughter had died down, "_I don't have the right kind of background, for one thing._"

A couple of the boys around him smirked at each other, as though sharing a private joke. Omoi's scowl deepened as he saw Samui and Karui tittering like a pair of schoolgirls, stars in their eyes as they stared almost worshipfully at Tom.

"_Nonsense,_" said Slughorn briskly, "_couldn't be plainer you come from decent Wizarding stock, abilities like yours. No, you'll go far, Tom, I've never been wrong about a student yet._"

The small golden clock standing on Slughorn's desk behind him chimed, startling Omoi and marking the hour as eleven, which caused the jolly professor to look around. Karui and Samui, who were standing next to Omoi, blinked and started, slowly shaking their heads as though emerging from a long, deep sleep. They stared blearily at the handsome, black-haired Tom, confusion evident on their faces.

"_Good gracious_," Slughorn exclaimed, pulling the pair's attention off of Tom and onto him, "_is it that time already? You'd better get going, boys, or we'll all be in trouble. Lestrange, I want your essay by tomorrow or it's detention. Same goes for you, Avery._"

As the boys began to file out of the room one by one, Samui and Karui turned to face Dumbledore.

"...what the hell just happened?" Karui asked Dumbledore bluntly, mouth gaping slightly as she shot wary glances over at Tom. "One minute we're just talking about how cute that guy is, and then the next thing I know we're acting like a couple of civilian schoolgirls... _What the hell_."

Dumbledore gave the two a slightly sad, slightly condescending smile, blue eyes twinkling as he seemed to peer not at but _through_ them. Karui shivered at the feeling, and Samui could not help reflexively throwing up her mental defenses as she felt the headmaster brush the surface of her mind with Legilimency.

"I believe," the elderly wizard said slowly, "that you have just felt the effects of young Tom's Glamor, which attracted you and weakened your resistance to the enchanting powers of his voice... It was a common tactic of his, in those days."

Samui's eyes widened as he looked cautiously over at Tom. "Do you mean... his voice has some sort of compulsion magic attached to it...? Who on earth _is_ he...?"

"Perhaps something like that," Dumbledore answered cryptically, pointedly ignoring the question of the boy's identity.

The pair scowled slightly, but returned their attention to the young man who had now approached Slughorn, eying him curiously yet cautiously.

"_Look sharp, Tom,_" said Slughorn, "_you don't want to be caught out of bed out of hours, and you a prefect..._"

"_Sir, I wanted to ask you something,_" Tom said. The ninja present noticed that his expression seemed to be strangely guarded beneath his casual façade.

"_Ask away, then, m'boy, ask away..._" said Slughorn somewhat absently.

"_Sir, I wondered what you know about... about Horcruxes?_"

The members of Team Samui were at a loss for what Tom was talking about, but the brief look on Slughorn's face gave them the impression that this was not something the man had expected or wanted to hear. He quickly appeared to regain his equilibrium, however, though Samui got the impression that the man was still caught off balance.

"_Project for Defense Against the Dark Arts, is it?_" Slughorn remarked shakily, thick fingers absentmindedly caressing the stem of his wine glass as he stared at Tom in a manner which suggested that he knew perfectly well that this was _not_ schoolwork.

"_Not exactly, sir,_" said Riddle, "_I came across the term while reading and I didn't fully understand it._"

Slughorn looked decidedly uncomfortable, fidgeting nervously as he said, "_No... well... you be hard-pushed to find a book at Hogwarts that'll give you details on Horcruxes, Tom, that's very Dark stuff, very Dark indeed._"

Dumbledore's expression darkened slightly, and Omoi felt a sense of foreboding. This situation, while fairly innocuous at first glance, was seeming very ominous. The boy Tom's behavior... something about it was suspicious. Very suspicious. And asking one of his teachers for details on what was apparently a Dark, forbidden art did not make the circumstances any less portentous.

"_But you obviously know all about them, sir? I mean, a wizard like you — sorry, I mean, if you can't tell me, obviously — I just knew if anyone could tell me, you could — so I just thought I'd ask —_"

Samui eyed Tom appraisingly. Hesitancy, casual tone, careful flattery, all of it timed precisely, none of it overdone... It was clear to her that this boy was a master of getting what he wanted out of people. Samui doubted she could do much better herself, and she was a kunoichi specialized in infiltration and information gathering. This boy was good – _too_ good – and he obviously wanted this information very, _very_ much.

"_Well,_" said Slughorn, not looking at Tom, but instead fiddling with the ribbon on top his box of candy – _pineapple_, he'd called it – eyes boring holes into the box as he plainly refused to meet his student's eyes, "_well, it can't hurt to give you an overview, of course. Just so that you understand the term. A Horcrux is the word for an object in which a person has concealed part of their soul._"

The members of Team Samui, to a man, were bewildered and baffled by this explanation, though they felt uneasy about where this topic of discussion seemed to be going. Tom seemed to be similarly befuddled by Slughorn's explanation, as he shortly said, "_I don't quite understand how that works, though, sir._"

His voice was very carefully controlled as he spoke, but Omoi and Samui could detect an underlying current of excitement, and even Karui could tell that Tom had more on his mind than just what he was showing.

"_Well, you split your soul, you see,_" Slughorn explained, "_and hide part of it in an object outside the body. Then, even if one's body is attacked or destroyed, one cannot die, for that part of the soul remains earthbound and undamaged. But of course, existence in such a form..._" His face crumpled up, and his voice seemed hoarse as he said, "_... few would want it, Tom, very few. Death would be preferable._"

The members of Team Samui shivered as Slughorn's words sank in. Splitting the soul... forcibly binding oneself to the mortal plane... it sounded like the worst sort of _kinjutsu_. That such a thing could even be possible boggled their minds. They knew there were jutsu and artifacts which could affect the substance of the soul, but _still_...

And the look of hunger on Tom's face was now readily apparent. He could not conceal his greed any longer, and the intensity of his expression was simply frightening.

"_How do you split your soul?_"

"_Well,_" said Slughorn uncomfortably, "_you must understand that the soul is supposed to remain intact and whole. Splitting it is an act of violation, it is against nature._"

"_But how do you do it?_" Tom asked again, eagerness evident in his darkly glinting eyes.

"_By an act of evil — the supreme act of evil,_" Slughorn explained,"_By committing murder. Killing rips the soul apart. The wizard intent upon creating a Horcrux would use the damage to his advantage: He would encase the torn portion — _"

"_Encase?_" Tom interrupted, "_But how — ?_"

"_There is a spell, do not ask me, I don't know!_" said Slughorn, shaking his head. "_Do I look as though I have tried it — do I look like a killer?_"

"_No, sir, of course not,_" Tom said quickly, "_I'm sorry... I didn't mean to offend..._"

"_Not at all, not at all, not offended,_" Slughorn said gruffly. "_It's natural to feel some curiosity about these things... Wizards of a certain caliber have always been drawn to that aspect of magic..._"

"_Yes, sir,_" Tom said. "_What I don't understand, though — just out of curiosity — I mean, would one Horcrux be much use? Can you only split your soul once? Wouldn't it be better, make you stronger, to have your soul in more pieces, I mean, for instance, isn't seven the most powerfully magical number, wouldn't seven — _"

"_Merlin's beard, Tom!_" Slughorn yelped. "_Seven! Isn't it bad enough to think of killing one person? And in any case... bad enough to divide the soul... but to rip it into seven pieces..._"

The potions master now looked deeply disturbed, looking at Tom as though he had never seen the boy plainly before, and it was clear that he was now seriously regretting entering into this conversation at all.

"_Of course,_" he muttered, "_this is all hypothetical, what we're discussing, isn't it? All academic..._"

"_Yes, sir, of course,_" Tom agreed a little too quickly.

"_But all the same, Tom... keep it quiet, what I've told — that's to say, what we've discussed. People wouldn't like to think we've been chatting about Horcruxes. It's a banned subject at Hogwarts, you know... Dumbledore's particularly fierce about it..._"

"_I won't say a word, sir,_" Tom promised, and then he left, but not before the members of Team Samui caught a glimpse of the expression on his face. It was a look of wild happiness, a disturbingly dark smile that, rather than enhancing his appearance, somehow made him look less human, less handsome, and caused Samui and Karui to wonder how they could have ever thought the boy attractive. Surely such a mad and darkly perverse look of glee did not belong on a face so handsome and fair, and yet it seemed as though they were getting a truer glimpse of the boy's nature than they had at any other point in the conversation.

And as the members of Team Samui contemplated the implications of what they had just seen, they were so preoccupied with their thoughts that they did not even notice when the world around them dissolved, and they landed back in the cluttered first floor study at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place.

"That..." Omoi muttered, shivering. His face was pale, and his eyes were wide as saucers. He looked haunted, like someone who had watched a horrific and gruesome accident unfold before their eyes. "That guy... who was he...? Asking about stuff like that..."

"That's classic missing nin..." said Karui, biting her lip thoughtfully. "Asking about such a horrible forbidden technique is so..." She shook her head, worrying at her bandanna-styled forehead protector. "...That kind of kid is sure to go bad."

"But that memory must have been from a long time ago," Omoi added. "I mean, look at how much younger Slughorn looked... I'd say it must have happened, like, forty or even fifty years ago. That kid would be an old man by now."

Karui blinked.

"That's right," she said contemplatively, "He _did_ look a lot younger... and if that Tom kid is still alive, he must be something like..."

She trailed off, her eyes widening in shock and horror.

"No... no way..." she whispered. "No — _fucking_ — _**way**_. He... he _can't_ be..."

"And yet..." Samui murmured, "he _must _be. It would only make sense... He... that boy was _Tom_... Tom, as in... Tom Marvolo Riddle... _wasn't_ he?" she said, shooting a shrewd look a Dumbledore, who nodded morosely.

"Lamentably," said the aged headmaster, "_yes._"

Karui gagged, seeming to be choking on her own tongue. Her face was green, and she looked decidedly ill.

"He's... no way, don't tell me... I was... I was... oh god... nasty... freaking _gross_... I was checking out that... that _Vorumo-yarō_ — !"

"Yeah..." Samui muttered, looking paler than usual. "Totally uncool."

Omoi shook his head.

"Yeah, yeah, Voldemort used to be good looking," he said impatiently, "But we've got more serious stuff than that to talk about, such as whether or not really did use that Horcrux technique..."

Karui frowned at this. She still looked to be unsettled by the matter of Riddle's once dashing good looks, but she knew serious business when she saw it.

"That's a good point..." she muttered. "If he _did_ use it, then..."

"Then it's no wonder he was able to return from death," Samui concluded, "if death it was..."

She gave Dumbledore a carefully measured, inquiring look. The headmaster met her gaze, eyes twinkling, and nodded his head.

"Indeed he did," said Dumbledore. "I have no doubt that he did as much. As a matter of fact, I have been certain of it ever since the incident in young Harry's second year at Hogwarts."

"The Chamber of Secrets incident, correct?" said Omoi neutrally.

"Correct," said Dumbledore. "It was the diary which Harry brought to me, the diary which once belonged to the very same Tom Marvolo Riddle whom you saw within that memory, the diary which had been possessing young Ginevra Weasley, that led me to believe beyond any shadow of a doubt..."

Karui's eyes flashed darkly. "That diary... so it was a Horcrux?"

Dumbledore did not say anything, but he did not need to.

"And what Riddle said in that memory..." said Omoi cautiously, "about splitting one's soul into seven... You don't think he really — ?"

"He most definitely intended to," said Dumbledore grimly, "even if he did not manage to do so before he was reduced to a mere shade when attempting to kill Harry those thirteen years ago. I feel he had meant, with the murder of Harry, to make the sixth and final Horcrux... I am certain he had been reserving the creation of Horcruxes for important murders."

Samui eyed him curiously.

"Does this have anything to do with that so-called prophecy in the Hall of Mysteries?" she inquired shrewdly.

"Perhaps," Dumbledore answered cryptically, his eyes twinkling in that infuriatingly superior manner of his. "But there is nothing 'so-called' about that prophecy – I can personally attest to its authenticity, though I will not say anything further."

"Perhaps," said Samui, intentionally mimicking the headmaster, "But I, for one, do not put any store in such things. I believe that people make their own fate."

"That," Dumbledore said pleasantly, "is at least one thing the two of us have in common, then."

Samui and her team eyed him curiously at this, but he said no more on that matter, so they soon turned their attention to other things.

"I suppose there's a reason you wanted to tell us all of this?" Omoi said at length.

"Yes," said Dumbledore. "If there is to be any hope of vanquishing Voldemort once and for all, we must first deal with every last one of his Horcruxes."

"And you want us to do that? To destroy them?" Karui asked.

Dumbledore shook his head.

"No," he said, "Not entirely... I intend to assist you as much as I can in the matter, and I believe there may be other ways of eliminating the Horcruxes than simply destroying them – which would be a most difficult task, due to the powerful Dark magic that binds them."

"How so?" Samui asked.

"Extracting a soul from an object into which it has been sealed, or severing the bonds which tie the Horcruxes to what remains of Voldemort's soul, or even isolating the pieces of soul entirely within another plane of space-time..." Dumbledore said, eying the members of Team Samui gravely, "with the magic taught at Hogwarts, such things would be difficult if not completely impossible... but with certain of the arts taught within your homeland, such things would be a very real option."

Omoi's eyes widened, briefly glancing over at Karui as he said, "Ehh...? You don't mean... like _sealing?_"

"Yes," said Dumbledore, "and that is part of the reason I have chosen to have Miss Karui working at Hogwarts for the time being. Her talents for such arts, as you have told me before, are exceptional, and I cannot in good conscience allow her life to be put at unnecessary risk. You understand this, I presume?"

"Yes, we do," Samui replied, even as Karui shot her a mutinous glare. "Omoi and myself are, at present, more expendable than her — don't look so offended!" she said in response to the dismayed look that crossed Dumbledore's face at her comment. "It is the truth, and we are proud Cloud shinobi. We are not cowards. We do not flinch away from such things."

She gave Dumbledore an even, measured look.

"If we die in the course of accomplishing the mission you have given us," she said frankly, "then we shall die honorably. To give everything in the name of our people and our village is our pride as shinobi. Our families would need not mourn us, so neither should you."

And that was that.

**TTFN and R&R!**

— – - ō Ō ū ¥ ❤ • ™

* * *

_translation notes:_

_"kinjutsu" - forbidden art_


	39. Do TwoHalves Giant Equal One Big Whole?

**Remember the Name**

A _Naruto _x _Harry Potter_ Crossover

By

EvilFuzzy9

_"There is no substitute for good manners, except, maybe fast reflexes."_

- Fortune Cookie

* * *

**A/N: I'm surprised I didn't get any reviews for the previous chapter, and a mite disheartened as well, considering how much time I put into that one... But anyways, childish moping aside, my grandma's gone back up to Glenwood, so I might be getting a bit more time to write now (when I'm not playing _Skyward Sword_).  
**

**This chapter turns the focus to Bee and what he's been doing with Hagrid and Madame Maxime. After I'm done with this little catch up arc, it shouldn't be too long before we reach the events of **_**Dudley Demented**_** in Book Five, and ultimately, Hogwarts. About damn time, too, considering it's been close to three months and forty chapters. :P**

**Also, I just missed writing Bee and wanted to raise the fic's Awesome Quotient to a level more fitting for one starring him and his "little minions".**

**On another note, I **_**really**_** don't like writing Madame Maxime's accent. **

* * *

The ground shook; thunder crashed at the mountain's summit. Violence raged as battle was joined between titanic powers. Lightning lit up the sky and fire seared the earth as millenia-old rock formations crumbled like stale biscuits.

A single, massive, unbroken horn pierced the sky. Eight long, boneless limbs waved in the air, reaching and grasping and coiling and curling. A beast of incredible scale shifted its ponderous, muscular bulk as it raised its head to the sky and let out a single, resounding cry.

"_**BUWHEEEEEEEEEEEEE!**_"

Rubeus Hagrid and Olympe Maxime looked on in awe from where they were secreted away in a cave in the mountains. Out among the giants, who had only a few days earlier seemed so open to their offers, their escort – who had transformed into a brobdignagian tentacled ox of even greater stature than the giants – was fighting the new gurg and his guard.

Only it was not quite fair to call it a fight – that would imply that the belligerent giants actually stood a chance against Killer Bee, who had descended upon them like the wrath of God. And they most certainly did _not_.

The earth shook beneath their feet, and small debris fell from the cave roof onto the heads of the two half-giants and the few bruised and bloodied giants who had proved amenable to their point of view. Hagrid held Madame Maxime tight, and she did not begrudge him this closeness.

As massive tentacles wrapped around and grappled with the lesser giants, and arms the size of small hills windmilling through the air, mercilessly battering the aggressing gurg, the groundskeeper of Hogwarts and the headmistress of Beauxbatons thought back in wonder and disbelief to how it had all begun so simply...

* * *

"So, zis eez ze one Dumblydorr 'as chosen to accompany us?" said Madame Maxime as she carefully scrutinized Killer Bee, as though expecting him to suddenly sprout wings and fly off into the horizon.

She and Hagrid were outside the Leaky Cauldron, in Muggle London, having decided to meet up there. Hagrid was dressed in his accustomed overcoat which had more pockets than an entire closet of parachute pants and was large enough to fit three men side by side beneath it. Madame Maxime was wearing a large, royal blue, low-cut summer dress. Ironically, despite being much better than most wizards and witches at dressing like muggles, Rubeus and Olympe stood out like sore thumbs simply because of their sheer size and attracted more than a few gawkers.

Next to them, Killer Bee, who was merely on the large side for a normal person, barely attracted any notice even _with_ his comparatively eccentric garb. Not that Bee noticed – he was a bit too distracted with staring at the cleavage of the well-endowed Maxime.

Madame Maxime looked Bee over a few more times before finally declaring him "acceptable".

"'Ee eez a little small zough, izzn't 'ee?" the half giantess whispered to Hagrid as they set off, making their way through the summer crowds of Londoners and tourists. "'Ow eez 'ee supposed to protect us?"

"He's a lot tougher 'n he looks," Hagrid replied quietly, looking a little abashed to be speaking so conspiratorially with someone he so obviously fancied. "Faster, too."

"Eez 'ee?" whispered Maxime, eying Bee skeptically. "...Well, eef you say so, 'Agrid..."

"O' course, o' course..." Hagrid murmured bashfully, his face looking almost comically red underneath the mass of rough, black whiskers that was his beard. "Whatever yeh say, Olympe..."

He was so out of it as he followed after the Beauxbatons headmistress like a lost puppy that he nearly bowled over a family of five, only narrowly avoiding knocking them onto the sidewalk.

Bee smiled knowingly.

"_You really like her, don't you?_" he singsonged in Japanese, "_Don't try to lie, I can tell that it's true._"

Hagrid's blush deepened, but he didn't reply. Instead, he turned to Madame Maxime and whispered, "Ar, um, so... er, how are we plannin' ter get ter those mountains, anyways? Bee, 'ere... he can't apparate himself, yeh know, and I dun' 'ave a license fer it meself, either..."

"Oh?" Maxime said curiously. "Well, I expected az much, and prepared for eet accordingly. We will be taking a... 'ow you say... _detour_, first."

"Detour?"

"_Ouis_, before we go... _zere_... we must lose our... _tail_, first."

Hagrid's eyes widened slightly at this, and he looked around nervously, as though expecting to pick out their tail from the bustling throngs.

"I dun' see anyone," he said.

"Of course you don't," said Madame Maxime, "zey are good. But not so good zat I cannot tell zey are zere."

"'They?'" Hagrid questioned. "D' yeh mean... there's more 'n one of 'em?"

Madame Maxime nodded in the affirmative.

"Zere are two of zem, at ze very leest," she answered quietly. "And zey are quite good, like I said. We will not lose zem eezily."

"Seven," said Bee quietly, the sound of his voice startling Madame Maxime.

"What — ? _Seven?_" the large witch exclaimed, her voice squeaking slightly as she struggled to keep it low enough to prevent being overheard. "What do you meen?"

"Seven tails," said Bee slowly, making sure he got the words right. "There are seven... following us."

"_Sacre dieu_..." Madame Maxime murmured. "Well... Zey are certainly determined, no?"

Hagrid frowned, looking around at the crowds nervously.

"Blimey, but I can't see 'em fer the life o' me..." he whispered anxiously, "Where are they, d'yeh reckon?"

"Two there," Bee said as he pointed to the left, "One there," he pointed to the right, "Three there," he pointed behind them, "And... one _there_," he said, pointing at man in a conspicuous, pinstriped suit a little ways in front of them, who was surreptitiously shooting glances in their direction.

"They're surroundin' us..." Hagrid muttered. "The Ministry must _really _want ter know what Dumbledore's up ter, sendin' this many after us..."

Killer Bee cocked his head to the side.

"No," he said slowly, "Only three are Ministry."

Madame Maxime furrowed her brow. "Eez zat so?" she said. "But zen, 'oo are ze rest...?"

"_I don't know, ain't got a clue_," Bee rapped cheerfully in his native tongue, "_but they ain't just a Ministry crew._"

**TTFN and R&R!**

* * *

_translation notes:_

_none_


	40. Amiral Ackbar, at Your Service

**Remember the Name**

A _Naruto _x _Harry Potter_ Crossover

By

EvilFuzzy9

_"Real knowledge is to know the extent of one's ignorance."_

- Confucius

* * *

**A/N: This chapter was sort of experimental, except not really, but it's sorta something different from the usual. A little. I dunno, I'm sleepy and my back aches.  
**

**Also, I wonder how many of you can figure out the meaning of this chapter's title?  
**

* * *

Junior Auror Gerard Meadowes grumbled irritably under his breath as he attempted to blend into the crowds of downtown Muggle London – a difficult task in his neon magenta sweatshirt suit and red felt top hat, but he managed the best he could. He hated undercover assignments like this, especially the ones where he had to dress up as a muggle, but he was not about to go and blow off his superior's orders no matter _how much _he wanted to.

At least he wasn't the only one suffering, though. Ezekiel Oakley and Josephus "Big Joe" Goodall – a pair of smug, insufferable gits – were under similar orders, and neither one was happy about it. The two older aurors were very cocky, fancying themselves as being the best dark wizard catchers in the whole Department of Magical Law Enforcement (which was quite contrary to reality), and they often completely disregarded operational protocol. Because of this, the two showoffs had very few friends among those whose opinions actually mattered (i.e., their superior officers), one or two sniveling sycophants notwithstanding. In particular, a certain auror captain named Marion J. Rattershin – a wiry middle-aged wizard of about sixty years with bushy, graying muttonchops and faded black eyebrows – had zero patience for Oakley's and Goodall's antics and regularly gave them the most menial and demeaning assignments.

Such as following a pair of half-giants in the middle of London. Though apparently that order actually came straight from the minister's office, which was something Meadowes found a bit odd seeing as how he could remember the one – 'Hagar' or something – as being the groundskeeper at Hogwarts back when he was a student there himself. But on the other hand, he supposed, if someone in the minister's office wanted the fellow tailed, then that was that and you simply did what you were told.

Still, it was not a job that he or any of his colleagues were exactly happy to take, so there was a good deal of grumbling and muttering from all three aurors as they did their level best to navigate their way through the throngs of muggles without stepping on too many toes or losing sight of their marks. The latter was no problem, but the former was proving to be quite difficult indeed.

"Watch your step, you clumsy troll!" Meadowes hissed under his breath at Oakley as the thickset blond narrowly avoided bowling over an unlucky muggle. And ironically enough, as he was momentarily distracted with berating Oakley, Meadowes wound up nearly knocking over a pretty young woman, himself, and only barely managed to sidestep at the last second, turning what could have been a head on collision into merely clipping her.

"Oh! Excuse me, I'm sorry —" the muggle girl apologized as she turned to face Meadowes, only to blink when see saw that the man whom she'd near crashed into had already swung past her and vanished into the crowd. "— oh."

Back up ahead, Oakley smirked at Meadowes. "_Now_ who needs to watch his step?" he whispered smugly, theatrically glancing back in the direction of the bemused lass.

"Oh, shut it," Meadowes snapped back weakly, his face red as he remembered the brief instant of feeling an unmistakeably soft, round object brushing his arm.

Goodall, the complete _git_, grinned knowingly. "Aye, you're right, Zeke... But, then again she _was_ pretty cute for a muggle..." he said slyly.

Meadowes blushed, fiddling nervously with his top hat.

"Er — She was, wasn't she?" he stammered awkwardly.

"Oh, aye!" Goodall chortled, "A real prize, she were! A little plain in the face, perhaps, but that's not where _I_ was looking..."

He waggled his eyebrows suggestively and pointed at his chest, miming holding up a pair of large melons, causing Meadowes to choke and Oakley to guffaw uproariously.

"Th-that's — er — " Meadowes stammered, coughing into his fist, before looking up and realizing that they were no longer surrounded by people. In fact, they now appeared to be standing in a very dark, very grungy alley, with their marks nowhere in sight. He had no idea how they'd gotten there, and he wasn't too sure he _wanted_ to know...

"Argh!" he exclaimed frantically, "Where are they?"

Oakley and Goodall blinked blearily, eying Meadowes confusedly.

"Where are who?" Oakley asked stupidly.

"Where are — our marks, you _idiot!_"

This seemed to snap the pair back into their senses, their eyes seeming to clear. They nearly jumped out of their skin when they looked around at the dark alley where they were now located.

"Merlin — !" Goodall exclaimed, eyes wide. "Forget _that!_ Where're _we?_"

"**Right where we want you to be,**" said a deep, booming voice in answer, echoing eerily throughout the tiny alleyway, giving the three aurors an incredible fright. It was low and loud, and it seemed to be coming from everywhere at once. "**You cannot leave,**" it stated matter-of-factly.

Oakley narrowed his eyes, drawing up to his full height and thrusting forth his chest even as his heart hammered against his ribcage.

"Oy!" he hollered defiantly. "Who do you think you are? You bastard! You coward! Come out and face us like a man! And don't underestimate us, either, or you'll regret it!"

"**... Such meaningless bravado... how pointless,**" the voice murmured, seemingly half to itself. "**To trap you wizards... I don't even need to **_**try**_**...**"

Meadowes scowled, a hint of steely stubbornness in his expression. "Forget this," he said anxiously. "Let's just go. We need to catch back up with them, and there's nothing keeping us here..."

The _"...that we can't blast through,"_ was left unsaid, but the other two understood it all the same.

Surreptitiously reaching a hand to his side, the junior auror Gerard Meadowes slipped a finely polished aspen wand from its holster and pointed it at the far end of the alley.

"I'll provide cover," he said frankly.

Goodall, seeing this, grinned cockily.

"I like the way you think, mate," the lanky auror remarked cheerfully, taking out a well-worn dogwood wand of his own and gripping it loosely between long, spidery fingers. With a jerk and a flick, he conjured a half dozen fairy-lights around him, which then scattered off with a swish in various directions to illuminate the almost pitch black alley.

It didn't have much effect on visibility – what _was _blocking out all that sunlight? – but the dim lighting provided by his charm at least allowed them to see their surroundings more clearly. There honestly wasn't very much to see, though. A garbage can here, a faded poster there, nothing interesting... at least, not until the alley began, by all appearances, to dissolve around them.

The ground vanished, replaced with an endless black abyss. The brick walls of the buildings on either side of them faded away into nothing.

Darkness swallowed up everything.

* * *

"_**Demonic Illusion: Darkness Prison**_**, successful,**" said the Eight-Tails, speaking through Bee's mouth as he sat in a lotus position, his hands in the snake seal. He was in the same dark alley that had appeared in the genjutsu.

Standing behind him were the towering forms of Madame Maxime and Rubeus Hagrid. Before him, slumped against a dirt-caked brick wall, were the forms of seven witches and wizards of various ages and appearances – all in muggle dress, all unconscious.

Madame Maxime frowned worriedly, prodding one of the insensate figures with her wand.

"And you are _certain_ zat zey will be fine?" she said dubiously.

"**Absolutely,**" said the Eight-Tails, its perfectly intoned English sounding odd coming from Bee's mouth. "**The illusion is designed to ensnare them completely for forty-eight hours, exactly, and you can count on one hand the number of things that would be able to break it by force. They will not awaken until that length of time has passed.**"

"Yes, but will zey be safe 'ere, out in ze open?"

"**Nobody will see them, if that's what you're asking. I've placed a second illusion over them to make sure of that...**"

Bee's head cocked to one side.

"**...Killer Bee is going to be taking back over, now,**" said the Eight-Tails. "**If you have any more questions...**"

Madame Maxime shook her head in the negative, and so did Hagrid.

"**... okay, then.**"

A moment passed, and Killer Bee's posture changed, becoming looser and more relaxed as he grinned.

"_Well that was fun, but now here we're done,_" rapped Bee in Japanese (much to Madame Maxime's frustration, since she only possessed a cursory understanding of the language). "_Let's get back in the sun and once more on the run!_"

"Yeah, we better get gone 'fore anyone figures out tha' they're missin' a few o' their tails," Hagrid said with a nod. Turning to Madame Maxime, he shyly remarked, "So... erm... I s'pose we won' be needin' tha' detour any more..."

"Mm, _mais ouis_..." Madame Maxime murmured thoughtfully, "I suppose we won't... But, still, I wonder... eef only less zan 'alf of ze spies were ministry, zen 'oo are ze rest?"

"_Deddo Itaasu_..." Bee replied nonchalantly, before adding, "... _maybe_." — Hagrid and Madam Maxime could have face-faulted at that — "Check arm, no? See for Dark Mark. Three have it, at least."

Hagrid frowned. "Three wit' the Dark Mark, then? An' three from the ministry But, what abou' the other one?"

Bee shrugged. "_Shiranai. Wakaranai. Madoshi ja nai, ja nai._"

**TTFN and R&R!**

* * *

_translation notes:_

_"deddo itaasu" - "death eaters" in engrish_

_"shiranai" - "(I) don't know", informal_

_"wakaranai" - "(I) don't understand", informal_

_"madoshi" - wizard, mage (not 100% sure, but I think it is)_

_"ja nai" - "is not" or "am not", informal_


	41. Eastbound and Down

**Remember the Name**

A _Naruto _x _Harry Potter_ Crossover

By

EvilFuzzy9

_"Obstacles are those frightful things you see when you take your eyes off the goal."_

- Hannah More

* * *

**A/N: If I have any real, serious pairings in this fic, Olympe x Hagrid will be it (though I do have a nice crackish idea for Sirius that would fit in fairly well with my nebulously-defined machinations), and even that would, partly by necessity, be almost entirely off-screen. I'll probably be **_**teasing **_**ships left and right, with a throw-away line of dialogue or what-have-you here and there, but that's just for lulz. This is not a romance fic, and I am not really a romance writer, so... yeah.**

**Anyways, as for this chapter, there's not a lot to say. It's mostly just a transition to get us to the giants, or near there at any rate, and to show Bee's progress with English. **

* * *

Leaving behind the troubling mystery of that lone, apparently unaffiliated operative, the trio departed from London. They made had a good pace once they reached the countryside and could use more unconventional means of travel without constant fear of being sighted by muggles.

And without the need to take a detour through France to shake their pursuers as they had originally planned, Hagrid, Maxime, and Bee were able to make far better time than they had expected. As in, they were on the mainland and in the mountains within a week without incident; aside from a brief scuffle with a very disagreeable vampire in Minsk, they were quickly on the trail of the giants, heading deeper and deeper into the wilderness.

It was a tough hike, or at least it would have been for an average person. But, then again, not one of these three was average. Rubeus Hagrid was a hard working country bumpkin with giant blood and a proclivity for danger, and Killer Bee was a top level ninja from the Hidden Cloud, where climbing mountains was an integral part of the daily commute. Even Madame Maxime, who was the quintessential, refined French dame, had little trouble navigating the steep and treacherous slopes, which was only fitting with a given name like "Olympe".

Still, that did not mean that this mountain trek was without any danger for them. The lower slopes were heavily wooded and populated with many various flora and fauna, but they had left those behind days ago in their continued ascent through the range. Where they were now, there was only sparse vegetation, very few plants being able to thrive in the shallow, rocky soil, and the few animals they came across instinctively bolting the second they saw them. As such, they had to ration their provisions sparingly.

Thankfully, at least water was not an issue, as there was an abundance of clean, snow-fed mountain streams to drink from. It was cold, though, as high up as they were, and there was little shelter to be had from the elements. Furthermore, before setting out they had been instructed by Dumbledore to use as little magic as possible once they reached the domain of the giants, and Hagrid had taken those instructions to heart. It would not do to draw the suspicion or ire of the giants unnecessarily, after all, so they each had to forego certain luxuries and frivolities that most wizards would rather not live without. It was a pain not having proper shelter or toiletries, but they soldiered on admirably.

" — an' so then he said ter me, he said, _'Tha's no hag, yeh bastard troll-son! Tha's my wife!'_" said Hagrid as he walked beside Madame Maxime, gesturing wildly as he told his story.

They were on a relatively flat expanse of rocky ground that cut across one side of the particular mountain they were crossing, the topography fairly smooth from centuries of rain and wind having long weathered away the worst of the crags. The plateau, if it could be called such, was largely barren, save for there light smattering of stubborn scraggly scrubs and bushes that could be seen clinging obstinately to life here and there.

Madame Maxime, who was shoulder-to-shoulder with Hagrid, was smiling as she listened to his story, nodding and giggling at all the right intervals as she and he passed the time in their own little world.

The two of them had gotten into the habit of swapping amusing anecdotes to keep their spirits up as they traveled, and they were getting along famously. They both had a few common interests that helped them become fast friends, and while Hagrid was still occasionally a bit bashful around Olympe (as she insisted he call her), he was at least able to be open with her, and she likewise with him. The fact that there might have been a hint of something more than just platonic friendship under the surface of their relationship did not exactly hurt their ability to get along, either.

"... so then I said ter him, I says, _'Oswick, yeh ruddy scoundrel, don' think I don't remember yeh from ye were still at Hogwarts, boy! Yeh might've been a foot shorter an' ten stones lighter, but I kin still remember yeh cryin' fer yer mummy when I caught yeh sneakin' out back in me pumpkin patch wit' those fourth year gals Violet an' Amaranth!'_"

Hagrid paused in telling his story and shook his. "And then, wouldn' yeh know it, the blighter actually has the stones ter try an' jinx me! Didn' do him much good, though, did it?" he asked rhetorically, before saying, "'Course not, seein' as how it jus' bounced right off..."

Meanwhile, as Hagrid regaled Olympe with his harrowing tale, up ahead Killer Bee was perusing a small, yellow book titled _So You Want to Learn English_. He had been putting a great deal of time and energy into studying the language over the past week, spending nearly every waking moment with his nose in Japanese-to-English dictionaries and books on English grammar and syntax, and he had made a great deal of headway in becoming fluent. It probably helped that he had a strong motivator.

_A week earlier, shortly before leaving with Hagrid to join Madame Maxime, Bee was confronted by one of his pupils, Samui._

_ "Sensei," she said, "Take this for when you go."_

_ She held out a book with a bright yellow cover. In big bold letters, it read: _'So You Want to Learn English'_._

_ Bee looked quizzically at the object for a moment, before he grinned and waved a hand dismissively, saying, "Well, it's a nice thought, but I don't need that. English or Japanese, my rhymes are all phat."_

_ Samui seemed to scowl for a second, but her expression quickly changed before he could be sure. _

_ "Take it, sensei," she repeated firmly, before slyly adding, "...Or do you really not care about all the people who won't be able to appreciate your genius?"_

_ Bee was silent for a second as he contemplated this. He eyed his student curiously through his shades. _

_ "... I'm listening," he said at last, for once forgoing any sort of rapping in his speech._

_ "Well, only so many of the people here understand our language, sensei," Samui said frankly. "You know this as well as I do. And this means that only a small number of them can really appreciate your... _talents_... as a singer and songwriter."_

_ "Hmmm... go on."_

_ "Well, just think about how dismal the world must be for them without your enka rap to brighten up their lives. If they could only understand your lyrics, things would seem so much better for them," she explained.  
_

Samui had been lying through her teeth, of course, but Bee didn't know that. As a matter of fact, he was rather inclined to accept the explanation she had given him. The girl was skilled like that, appealing to her master's vanity in a way that few others could. And so Bee had spent the past days studying the English language with a heretofore unequaled level of diligence (for him, at least).

As they walked, Bee reached into one of the pockets of his white tactical vest, pulling out a pen. Licking the tip to make sure it had enough ink, he jotted down a few notes on the page of his book, mumbling to himself as he did so.

"'_To spear my foes, I was born_,'..." he muttered under his breath in a heavy accent as he wrote. "'_I'm the terrifyin' Long-Horn_...'"

He scratched his goatee'd chin thoughtfully with the butt of his pen.

"Hmm... that could work..." he mused, lazily scribbling a few more notations on the open page.

**TTFN and R&R!**

* * *

_translation notes:_

_none_


	42. First Contact

**Remember the Name**

A _Naruto _x _Harry Potter_ Crossover

By

EvilFuzzy9

_"The most valuable of all talents is that of never using two words when one will do."_

- Thomas Jefferson

* * *

**A/N: Wherein our intrepid heroes make first contact with the giants, and Killer Bee contemplates the viability of a giant summoning contract. **

**This chapter was typed up all in a single day, thanks to my youngest brother deciding that he wanted to take my shift at Hong Kong today, leaving with nothing else to do but basically write, read fanfics, or play videogames. Naturally, I chose **_**D**_**, all of the above. (Two updates in a single day – haha, I'm spoiling you guys!) **

* * *

A few more days passed as the trio traveled through the mountains, before they reached the site of what was the last known giant tribe in probably the whole of Eurasia. They dwelt in a valley, in a dip between four mountains right next to a rather large lake that looked like it was fed by an annual snowmelt.

The giants themselves could not have numbered much more than eighty. Not eighty hundred, or eighty thousand. Just _eighty_. Whole species had been declared _extinct_ with larger surviving populations than that (not more than once or twice, mind you, but it had happened nonetheless).

It was a wholly disheartening prospect.

Still, though, even with less than a hundred of them still alive the giants were a formidable force. Their great size, and their proportionally even _greater_ strength and resilience to magic meant that just a handful of these beings fighting on either side could quickly decide the course of the war.

Bee was just a little bit awed as he beheld a dozen giants trundling aimlessly about the valley. Twenty feet was _tall_ – even most summoned beasts never reached such a size – and the giants were solidly built. Very solidly built.

Watching the giants was like watching moving hills of muscle and sinew and hair and teeth; from the looks of it, even the smaller ones had a weight that would be best measured in _tons_. Even in the most extreme environments of the Elemental Nations, creatures of such scale were scarce, with most such lifeforms being descended from, or members of, the clans of summoned beasts which bound themselves to certain exceptional shinobi through anicent pacts of blood.

Bee personally had never been so lucky as to attain a summon contract (though he had never felt any particular need to, with his nearly unparalleled mastery of jinchūriki transformations), but he knew at least one person – his longtime pal Motoi – who had. And he knew from Motoi that summoned beasts occasionally produced offspring with their mundane, terrestrial counterparts, which was the origin of many of the larger and/or more intelligent species of both wild and ninja animals.

...And now that Bee thought about it, something like a giant summoning contract would probably be pretty wicked. Maybe he could ask the giants for one (for his students, of course, not himself, no matter _how_ cool he might have imagined it would be to execute a double lariat in full bijū form with one of those assisting)? Did they even _have _a summon contract, though? He was_ fairly sure _summons lived in another dimension, after all...

Well, if they didn't have a summon contract, he supposed he could always just jury-rig one. He wasn't a sealmaster by any stretch of the imagination, but it couldn't be _too_ difficult to do, right?

Anyways, while Killer Bee was off in his own little world contemplating the logistics of giant summoning, Hagrid and Maxime were busy discussing the proverbial battle plan.

"D' yeh s'pose they'll be acceptin' of Dumbledore's offer?" said Hagrid, looking up from watching the various spread out clusters of two or three giants go about their daily business.

"Eet eez possible zat zey will," Olympe replied. "On ze uzzer 'and, eet eez also possible zat zey will _not_."

Hagrid frowned nervously at this, looking back down at the giants in the valley.

"Which one's the Gurg, d' yeh reckon?"

"Ze biggest, ugliest, and laziest one, I would eemagine."

Hagrid chuckled a bit at this. "Ah, yeah, tha's a good point. Well, if tha's the case tha' case, then I say it's pro'lly _tha' _one," he said, pointing out a particularly indigent specimen of around twenty-three feet with an ugly, lopsided head and skin like rhino hide.

"_Mais ouis_," said Madame Maxime approvingly, "'ee most certainly _looks_ ze part, duzzin't 'ee?"

"Def'nitely," Hagrid agreed. "An' lookit how the others are bringin' him food, too. He's definitely the Gurg... But I wonder if he'll even understand us..."

"Eef 'ee does not," Madame Maxime replied, "zen surely at least one of ze uzzers will."

After that, they spent a little while longer discussing their approach. By the time they had worked the plan out, the sun was dipping down low on the horizon and the sky was growing dark, so they decided that they would wait until morning – it would not do to sneak up on the giants in the dark of the night, as they were impulsive and violent enough under the best circumstances. If caught by surprise, they were more likely than not to simply crush first and ask questions never.

Thus the decision to wait until morning.

* * *

It was a long night. None of them had been able to get more than a wink of sleep – even Bee had been forced awake when the snoring of the giants in the valley below got so bad that it actually caused an avalanche that nearly buried him.

Bee had been rather irked by that. But if he was irked, then Madame Maxime was infuriated. It would seem that she did not appreciate having her beauty sleep interrupted.

Imagine that.

It was with considerable trepidation that the trio went down the mountain once the giants and their Gurg appeared to be fully awake and fed, Hagrid and Maxime considerably moreso than Bee, who seemed more curious than anything else. Still, they were determined to do this right, and they did not let any fear or anxiety show on their faces.

They did exactly as Dumbledore had instructed, holding the gift – a large branch burning with Gubraithian fire – high above their heads and keeping their eyes solely on the Gurg, ignoring all the others. At first, it seemed like some of the giants were ready to get up and try to kill them, but eventually even the dullest among their numbers realized what was going on and settled right back down, not wanting to cross the Gurg by getting in the way of those who bore him tribute.

Once the trio reached the Gurg, they bowed low (Madame Maxime having to force the lackadaisical Bee's head down) and placed the present before him in the snow at his feet.

"A gift to the Gurg of the giants from Albus Dumbledore, who sends his respectful greetings," said Hagrid, snow falling from his beard as he stood back up along with Bee and Maxime.

The giant stared blankly at Hagrid, clearly not understand a word he'd just said. Thankfully, they had been forewarned by Dumbledore that something like that might happen, and luckily enough the Gurg had sufficient sense to holler for a couple of giants who actually knew English.

It took a few minutes, but eventually translators came forward and Madame Maxime began explaining the gift to them. As she told them, Gubraithian fire was, quite simply put, fire that never burned out – _ever_. And it was theirs, given to them in Dumbledore's name.

Naturally, once the Gurg understood what was going on and just what the trio had given him, he was very pleased. He told them, via his translators, that he was Karkus, Gurg of the giants, and that he accepted the gift – the actual phrasing was much less eloquent, but there you have it.

Karkus was pleased, and so were the other giants. They adored the gift, having a great love of magic despite an inability to do it for themselves and a hatred of the wizards who used it against them. So never even mind the innumerable _practical_ uses of such a gift, they were sold at the word 'go'.

So when Hagrid said, "Albus Dumbledore asks the Gurg to speak with his messenger when he returns tomorrow with another gift," Karkus and his followers gladly let the trio go back up into the mountains unmolested.

And so ended the first day of negotiations.

**TTFN and R&R!**

* * *

_translation notes:_

_none_


	43. Eloquent in My Native Tongue

**Remember the Name**

A _Naruto _x _Harry Potter_ Crossover

By

EvilFuzzy9

_"Don't take life too seriously; laugh and smile at it once in a while."_

- Fortune Cookie

* * *

**A/N: The second part of this chapter takes the trope 'Eloquent in my Native Tongue' and runs with it. **

**And also, I recently read the special oneshot chapter Kishimoto made to promote the **_**Road to Ninja**_** movie. It was nice to see the rookie nine (plus Team Guy) just hanging out with each other and having fun, and it was pretty dang funny at parts. (**_**Heheh, Hinata's boobs float... *snerk***_**)**

* * *

Hagrid, Maxime, and Bee went back up the mountainside, leaving the giants with their gift. It was difficult for them to leave things without saying anything further, but Dumbledore had been very clear in his instructions.

Giants were simple-minded creatures by nature, accustomed solving most of the problems they came across with nothing more complex than a liberal application of brute strength. It was not in their nature to think very heavily on things, and they had very little talent for multitasking. Lay too much on one all at once, and it was likely to kill you just to simplify matters.

So they had to wait, and give the information time to digest in the giants' underdeveloped brains. And more than that, it let the giants see that the three kept their promises: _"We'll be back tomorrow with another present."_ This was very important. They needed the giants to trust them, and to be willing to hear them out. So they had to take things slowly, prove their trustworthiness.

It was still difficult though, and all three of them were feeling a little antsy when they finally picked out a nice cave overlooking the valley. It was in an ideal location close enough to the valley that they could see and hear how their gifts went over with the giants, and far enough away to give them ample time to safely split should things look like they're about to go south. Moreover, it was cozy and sheltered from the elements, making for an excellent spot to set up camp.

Or at least, it was once they drove out the chimera that appeared to have taken up residence within some time earlier. Happily, all it took was a precision application of killing intent courtesy of the Eight-Tails to send it running straight into the valley below, where it was quickly snatched and gobbled up by a lucky giant.

* * *

The three whiled away the rest of the day with various distractions. Hagrid looked through badly wrinkled sheafs of messily written lesson plans for the coming year and reviewed what appeared to be the final exam scores for the OWL and NEWT students in his class, as well as the cumulative grades for the third, fourth, and sixth year classes. Maxime, on the other hand, bounced back and forth between reading a thick, hardcover novel and boredly watching the giants down below. And Bee, for his part, alternated between going through some basic taijutsu and kenjutsu kata, studying from _So You Want to Learn English_, and jotting down ideas for rhymes.

The daylight hours stretched on, gradually giving way to dusk. As the sun began to set, the three gathered around a small campfire near the opening of the cave. Bee had helpfully volunteered to fetch some dry twigs and branches from further down the mountain for kindling, and when he returned half an hour later (_shunshin_ was sooo useful) he dumped a large stockpile of wood from a storage scroll and within seconds had stacked it up into a pile several feet high in a nice and dry corner of the cave. Hagrid and Maxime were duly impressed, and Hagrid built a small fire.

They sat around the flames, eating a simple repast of dry rations and water. It was a humble meal, and none too appetizing, but it was sufficient for their purposes. Hagrid had initially expressed a desire to throw together a good hot stew, but Olympe had quickly vetoed it, saying that they did _not_ want to draw any hungry giants up to their cave, and Hagrid had soon relented. (The fact that Hagrid was _not_ a good cook _certainly_ played no role in that decision.)

The night wore on, and soon the three retired to sleep, Madame Maxime extinguishing the glowing coals with a wave of her wand. They slept much better this time, with a temporary sound-proofing charm cast on the cave entrance dampening the racket of the snoring giants to just "jet engine" loud.

* * *

The next morning, they once more went down to see Karkus, this time bringing a finely-crafted, all but indestructible goblin-make battle helmet. This time the Gurg was eagerly awaiting them, sitting up with a translator at the ready nearby, and he greeted them warmly.

"_I bid you fair tidings, friends of the honorable Dumbledore!_" Karkus bellowed jovially in the rough and primitive language of the giants. "_It brings this heart of mine great joy to see you happy and healthy on this fine morn._"

"'Hel-lo, Dumble-friends,'" said the translator slowly. "'Is good to see you.'"

Hagrid and Maxime bowed and greeted him in return, placing the gift at his feet, while Bee simply nodded at Karkus and said, "Yo."

The Gurg, once the two half-giants stood back up, picked up the helmet and inspected it, stress testing it in his hand. The metal groaned slightly as he subjected the helm to the crushing force of his grip, but that was it.

Seeing that the metal did not give way from the immense pressure in even the slightest, Karkus nodded and picked out a large boulder. He struck the battle helmet against the stone with all of the considerable force that he could muster, completely shattering a portion of the boulder and sending stone fragments every which way. But the helmet was unmarked and undented, still perfectly pristine.

Karkus laughed.

"_I say, this is a most impressive piece!_" he declared. "_Such a fine work could have only come from the forge of a master artisans of the goblin race. Truly, the generosity of Lord Dumbledore is as boundless as his wisdom!_"

"'Is good,'" translated the translator, even as other giants started to gather round. "'Is must be goblin-thingy. Dumble-sir give as much as know.'"

"Ar, he's a good man, Dumbledore," Hagrid nodded. "He thinks mighty highly o' the giants, he does, an' says tha' we wizards should try an' do our best ter get along wit' 'em, instead o' jus' sendin' 'em off inter the mountains."

Karkus nodded at this, and t he other English-speaking giants appeared to be listening intently.

"An' I say we should listen to him, too," Hagrid continued. "He's a better wizard than mos', and a lot cleverer. I really look up ter him, 'cause if it weren' fer him I wouldn' be where I am today. He gave me a secon' chance when nobody else would, an' if he says that giants and wizards can get along better, then I fer one sure ain' gonna try an' say otherwise."

This and more Hagrid said as spoke to the Gurg, Madame Maxime eventually joining in. They talked at length about Dumbledore and his respect for the giants as Karkus and many others sat and listened intently.

Eventually, they wound down, and the Gurg stood up. He smiled down at them broadly, showing off a mouth full of large, yellowing, misshapen teeth which resembled nothing so much as worn-down millstones.

"_Yes, I have heard many grand tales of that man,_" said Karkus. "_He is a great wizard, and was one of the few to oppose the genocide of my people in the Isles. He is a man of incomparable character, and I greatly admire him. Moreover, I can see his kindness reflected in your eyes. A good leader must be able to inspire his followers, and he has clearly done so – the proof of this stands right before me!_"

"'I hear of him,'" the giant translator said. "'He good wizard, say no kill all Britain giants. He good, I like him. I see you good too. He good leader, make good followers – you proof.'"

Hagrid beamed proudly at this. Madame Maxime smiled softly at Hagrid.

And Bee simply stood there.

**TTFN and R&R!**

* * *

_translation notes:_

_"kenjutsu" - "sword arts", swordfighting_

_"shunshin" - body flicker, a low-level jutsu that uses a burst of chakra to briefly accelerate the user to incredible speeds; useful, but it also costs quite a bit of chakra, making it too wasteful for most ninja to use for trivial matters; this, of course, is not a problem for Bee_


	44. It Hits the Fan

**Remember the Name**

A _Naruto _x _Harry Potter_ Crossover

By

EvilFuzzy9

_"Spectacular accomplishment is never preceded by less than spectacular preparation."_

- Fortune Cookie (again)

* * *

**A/N: This chapter is a little shortish, but it's pretty dramatic and really sets the tone for the rest of this mini-arc.**

* * *

The second day of negotiations ended on a good note. The giants had received their attempts at forging an alliance with nothing short of acceptance, and Hagrid and Olympe were glad for this. Giants were not known for their diplomacy or hospitality, after all, so the fact that things were going as well as they were was nothing short of miraculous.

It probably helped matters that Bee, in a surprising display of discretion, was actually keeping his mouth shut around the giants. Hagrid and Maxime had, not entirely unjustifiably, feared that Bee might end up offending the Gurg and thus send things straight to heck in a hand basket, so they were relieved by his silence. While they had nothing personal against the man, they knew well enough that, with his cocky, devil-may-care attitude and complete disregard for things like tact and delicacy, he probably would have been like an open flame to the powder keg that was the volatile collective tempers of the giant race.

Fortunately for the continued existence of civilization in northern Europe, Bee's adoptive brother had spent _years_ teaching Bee how to handle delicate, diplomatic situations. Namely, by keeping his mouth shut and looking intimidating while other, more qualified individuals did all the talking. It was a strategy that had served the powerhouses of the Hidden Cloud well throughout the village's history, having become popular in the first place due to the fact the Kumogakure ninja curriculum tended to focus largely on building up direct combat power while somewhat neglecting more esoteric areas like peaceful negotiation and non-violent conflict resolution (hey, what works, _works_).

So while Rubeus Hagrid and Olympe Maxime talked to the Gurg and his followers, Killer Bee stood behind them with his arms crossed, projecting an air of "Don't mess with me". It had little, if any, effect on the giants, but it was the intent that mattered in the first place. He was not there to help with negotiations, after all. Rather, he was there as a last resort defense in case the situation became completely unsalvageable.

The other two didn't even know the full extent of Bee's orders, though. They thought he was there as a bodyguard, and while that was indeed the primary objective of his mission, it was not the only one. The hachibi jinchūriki had a second set of instructions straight from Dumbledore – a drastic, confidential contingency plan for the worst case scenario. It was an absolute last resort, being essentially the wizard/ninja equivalent of the nuclear option, and it had obviously been with only the greatest reluctance that the head of the Order had given him those orders.

Ideally, it was hoped that there would be no need to execute that contingency plan, but then again such things have rarely ever panned out the way people hoped they would. And that night, everything went wrong.

A great clamor arose in the valley. Booming, thundering rumors of violence shook the mountains to their roots. War cries were bellowed, and blood flowed in rivers. A fight had broken out among the giants.

It lasted for hours, the combat. Hagrid, Olympe, and Bee could only watch in varying degrees of shock and dismay as they saw the vast silhouettes of the giants battling with one another. They could feel the dreadful killing intent leaking from the brawling titans even from the mouth of their cave high up the mountainside. It was something awful, and by the time the humdrum died down it was nearly dawn.

When the sun rose, they saw the snow: it was stained the red of blood, and, looking further, they could see through the crystal clear waters of the mountain lake at the way to its floor. And lying at the bottom of the lake, visible even from that distance, was the head of Karkus.

**TTFN and R&R!**

* * *

_translation notes:_

_none_


	45. The Nuclear Option

**Remember the Name**

A _Naruto _x _Harry Potter_ Crossover

By

EvilFuzzy9

_"When you have no choice, mobilize the spirit of courage."_

- Jewish Proverb

* * *

**A/N: I've been alternately listening to **_**Hero's Come Back**_** (easily one of my favorite Shippuden openings) and **_**Give Lee Give Lee Rock Lee**_** (the **_**Rock Lee and his Ninja Pals**_** opening theme) on loop on for I don't even know how long. They're both **_**really**_** freaking catchy, though in very different ways. Also, since I've got the day off with pink-eye, and we're basically at the climax of the Giant mini-arc (can I really even still **_**call**_** it 'mini' at this point?), and because this chapter was already nearly finished when I started writing today, you'll be getting a rare double-dose of RtN. **

**Savor it **❤

* * *

It was with great dismay that the trio debated their next step that morning. The coup the previous night had come as a considerable blow to their plans. While giants were prone to violence and infighting, they had not expected or planned for a new Gurg taking over so soon after they made contact. This added a considerable amount of uncertainty to the scenario.

They had no way of knowing for sure if this new Gurg would be as welcoming as Karkus, but the timing and circumstances of the coup suggested not. In fact, as _Bee_ of all people had pointed out (in his own eccentric way), the odds were good that it was Karkus's meeting with them that had instigated the revolt. Assuming the new Gurg and his or her supporters had been spurred into action by their presence, then it was likely that the new administration was a radical faction opposed to wizards.

And that was one of the more optimistic possibilities. The _worst case _scenario was that the new Gurg was on Voldemort's payroll. And that would be _**very bad**_.

Hagrid and Maxime were naturally upset by this thought, even though they had to admit it made sense. Still, they were adamant that they had to try and make a connection with the new Gurg. This mission was too important for them to give up so easily, they said. They could not give up until they had exhausted all options. And Bee accepted this reasoning, though he insisted on taking point.

So it was that the trio once more set off down the mountain, this time bearing a large roll of dragon skin.

The atmosphere was tense as they descended. Several ugly, particularly muscular giants were darkly staring at them, and the trio could feel the pressure of the new Gurg's glare.

It was easy to tell which one it was who held Karkus's former position: he sat in the center of the camp, wearing the goblin-crafted helmet they had given to the late Gurg. He was leering dangerously at them, black hair and matching teeth with a necklace of decidedly human-looking bones. It was easy to tell that this was not someone that they could win over so easily.

Still, Hagrid went forward with the gift and bowed low, just like he had the last two times, saying, "A gift fer the Gurg of the giants — " He wasn't even able to finish his sentence before two of the Gurg's pals had grabbed him, dangling him upside down in the air by his feet.

What happened next... well, it was all a jumbled blur to Hagrid and Maxime. One moment the half-giant headmistress of Beauxbatons was reaching for her wand to free her companion, and the next she saw the two giants being sent flying backwards through the air by a pair of fists too massive to be real.

Looking up in the most probable direction of the source of the giant fists, she saw Killer Bee in mid-leap nearly twenty feet in the air. With arms too large by several orders of magnitude to _possibly_ be coming from him retracting and dissolving into thin air even as she watched, the Cloud Jōnin proceeded to fall back to earth, hitting the ground with a roll that carried him several feet forward to the base of the new Gurg's feet.

"_Golgomath!_"one of the surrounding giants cried, briefly drawing the attention of the Gurg, that apparently being his name.

"Yo!" Bee shouted as he leaped back up into the air, taking advantage of Golgomath's moment of distraction to sock him in the chin with a barehanded uppercut, nearly lifting the giant leader a few inches off the ground with the sheer force of the blow. Then, as he began to fall back to the ground, Bee spun in midair, an arm larger than most redwood trees materializing from his right shoulder, catching the Gurg in the chest with a hard elbow that caused a great CRACK to resound throughout the valley, knocking Golgomath flat on his back and sending himself flying several feet back as the arm once more dematerialized.

"Don't underestimate, don't just procrastinate, get ready to fight, or y'all I'll exterminate!" the hachibi jinchūriki rapped boastfully, ignoring the disbelieving looks he was receiving as he landed on his feet right behind Maxime and Hagrid (who was still a tad stunned from his fall even though Olympe had arrested his descent with a timely flick of her wand).

The Gurg, spitting up a large, disgusting glob of blood and phlegm, snarled and got back onto his feet, roaring furiously and incoherently at Bee and the other two. With a a great thundering noise, Golgomath and his supporters blindly charged the trio, infuriated beyond all rational thought.

Bee just smirked as he saw them approaching. Lifting one arm, his hand in a sign that muggle teens would recognize as the 'horns', he called out to the stampeding giants with a cocky, "Yo,_ bakayar__ō__, konoyar__ō__._ Now it's my turn, I'm the star of this show. So step it up, fool, or down you'll go! OH YEAH!"

A curious, translucent reddish substance began bubbling from his skin as the giants swiftly drew nearer, expanded and shifting and forming a curiously shaped, partially-transparent shroud around him. Then, when the giants were right on top of him, Bee seemingly _exploded._ A red and black pillar of light shot up into the sky, clouds parting before it. The ground cracked and shook, and the heavens split, as a massive, monstrous beast seemed to ascend from the very depths of Hell.

Hagrid and Maxime, watching in awe as the battle unfolded, wisely retreated to the mountainside as a titanic, tentacled minotaur launched itself into the fray, laying into the giants like a beastly god of war, a piercing battle cry shaking the surrounding mountains to their very roots.

"_**BUWHEEEEEEEEEEEEE!**_"

**TTFN and R&R!**

* * *

_translation notes:_

_none_


	46. 尾獣玉!

**Remember the Name**

A _Naruto _x _Harry Potter_ Crossover

By

EvilFuzzy9

_"Trust only movement. Life happens at the level of events, not of words. Trust movement."_

- Alfred Adler

* * *

**A/N: As I said in the previous chapter's author's note, today (8/5/2012) is a **_**Remember the Name**_** double feature. Also, a weird note: when I looked up Grawp on the HP wiki, I noticed it said that his hair was green. **_**Weird**_**. But whatever.**

* * *

Olympe Maxime was overawed as she watched her and Hagrid's escort throw Golgomath and his crew around like so many rag dolls. It was utterly surreal. She could not believe that anyone, or any_thing_, could be so incomprehensibly powerful.

And, looking askance at her traveling companion who was crouched beside her, Maxime could tell that she was not the only one surprised.

"Gulpin' gargoyles..." she heard him breathe as Killer Bee, in the form of that gigantic monster, picked up one of the giants by their ankle and swung them around like a club, sending several other giants flying. "I've never seen anythin' like it..."

She found herself nodding in agreement with this sentiment even as she chanced a look around at some of the giants who had also secreted themselves away inside this cave. She noted the looks of fearful respect on their faces as they too dared to peer out the cave into the gully below, curiosity overcoming any fears of being discovered by Golgomath's brutes. The fact that said thugs were currently busy being given more than their fair share of lumps as Bee clobbered them probably had _nothing _to do with this.

One of the giants – a comparatively runty male specimen with hair like moss and muddy, greenish-brown eyes – crowed happily and loudly clapped his hands with no care for secrecy as he watched Golgomath and his goons get knocked about like they were nothing but a gaggle of weaklings. Olympe noticed the great number of cuts and bruises that littered the small giant's body, which were numerous and severe even when measured according to the standard set by the bloodied and beaten residents of this cave, all of whom had been brutally savaged for daring to sympathize with her and Hagrid.

"Haw haw!" the giant guffawed gaily, before he was roughly shoved aside by another, larger giant with yellowing teeth, a bald pate marked by a jagged semi-circular scar, and beady black eyes.

"Us watch, runt," the badly bruised giant growled in fragmented English, gesturing towards a hefty, homely giantess with dull, copper-colored hair and nasty, scabbed-up gash running diagonally across her bloody chest. "Us want see now," he added, managing to look quite intimidating even with matching black eyes, a split lip, and a broken nose, just to name a few of his injuries.

Seeing Maxime eying him and the giantess who took a spot next to him, blocking up most of the cave entrance (to the grumbled protestations of the other giants), the scar-headed giant grinned, showing a number of gaps amidst his cracked and yellowed teeth, some of which were probably fairly recent judging by the blood that was still on his gums at spots.

"Much-time make trouble..." he rumbled coarsely, pointing in the direction of the indignant runt who was glowering impotently at his back, "...is no good Friddy-wolf runt."

Hagrid's eyes widened noticeably at this, turning his attention from the continuing beatdown going on in the valley to look disbelievingly at the giant.

"Di...did yeh say... _Fridwulfa...?_"

The bald giant nodded after a second's thought. "Is name, yes. Fridwulfa."

Hagrid, visibly in shock, peered past the giant to get another look at the runt in question, eyes wide and mouth agape.

* * *

At the same time, down in the snowy gully, Killer Bee was having a blast.

_"Hah! This is the best fight I've had in a while!" _Bee said within his mindscape, where he was sitting atop the Eight-Tailed _ushi-oni's_ head. _"This pain-train's not stoppin' 'til they're all in a pile!"_ he boasted to nobody but himself and the Eight-Tails, even as his tailed-beast form bent over backwards in the real world to take out a particularly persistent giant with a devastating German suplex.

The Eight-Tails sighed longsufferingly at this. _**"Bee..."**_ the hachibi murmured warningly, _**"Don't lose control of my chakra, now. It would be best if you left the conspirators alive – but demoralized – for the time being. Kill them now, and they'll just become martyrs."**_

_"Don't worry, homie, I know the rules,"_ Bee replied dismissively as he cold-cocked another of Golgomath's supporters who simply refused to stay down, _"Bijū mode's strong, but I gotta keep cool. Can't lose focus, or I'll start losin' my head, and then CRASH-BANG-BOOM, everyone's dead."_

The Eight-Tails huffed, his bovine brow twitching irritably. _**"... just hurry up and beat them, already,"**_ he finally muttered.

"**Okay!**" Bee responded aloud, his voice greatly amplified in bijū form as he turned his full attention to the battle. "**Let's end this!**"

He surveyed his opponents, taking advantage of a temporary lull in the action to fall back a few yards and get them all in front of him. There were five enemy giants still standing – Golgomath among them, proving that, for all his faults, he was no slouch, and in at least one respect was fully deserving of the title of Gurg, what with how much abuse he could take and still stay standing. The other four were similarly battered, but just as defiant as their leader.

"No mock us! We fight!" bellowed one of Golgomath's supporters who could actually speak English – it might have even been Golgomath himself, for all Bee knew or cared.

Bee grinned, or as much as he could in his present form. "**Well then, you fools**_**,**_** let's get up and dance! This attack'll crush ya like you're nothin' but ants!**"

The giants, incensed, once again charged him as one, clustered together as their long legs covered the distance with ease.

In the form of the Eight-Tails, Killer Bee reared back his head, mouth open as his tentacles moved into formation and began channeling chakra to his mouth. Differently colored flecks of positive black chakra and negative white chakra clumped together, balanced into an 8:2 ratio and shaped into a sphere.

Back inside Bee's mindscape, the Eight-Tails' eyes widened as he realized just what Bee was planning to do.

Golgomath and crew were almost right on top of Bee by that point, and so, choosing to forgo the compression and ingestion stages, he simply allowed the sphere of ultra-dense chakra to destabilize in a most spectacular manner, using his tentacles shape and direct the explosion as a massive, semi-conical shockwave aimed straight at his opponents.

In his mind's eye, Bee recalled the elegant kanji in the dusty, weathered scroll which had contained the only written instructions for this technique in all the Land of Lightning. As the earth buckled and shook from the sheer force of the attack, he envisioned the name of the jutsu that had been written in the scroll with the sort of reverent calligraphy usually reserved for the names of the past three raikage.

_"_**尾獣玉**_**—**__**Bijūdama!"**_

**TTFN and R&R!**

* * *

_translation notes:_

_"ushi-oni" - ox-ogre; a Japanese mythological sea-monster that is usually depicted as being part ox and part random sea creature, often attributed with sinking ships in folktales and myths_

_"bijūdama" - tailed-beast ball, an extremely destructive ranged attack specific to the nine tailed-beasts and their jinchūriki_


	47. Post Arithmetic

**Remember the Name**

A _Naruto _x _Harry Potter_ Crossover

By

EvilFuzzy9

_"He conquers who endures."_

- Persius

* * *

**A/N: Y'know, I've noticed that Rowling's giant names are all over the place, with germanic-sounding names like Fridwulfa, Latin-y ones like Golgomath (very similar to Golgotha, "the hill of skulls", from the Bible), and straight-up **_**caveman**_** names like Grawp. This makes it simultaneously very easy and very hard to come up with good names for them.**

* * *

The aftermath of Bee's finishing attack was, to put it bluntly, predictable. Golgomath and his gang were soundly defeated, but alive – _barely_. Bee had toned his attack down considerably to keep from completely annihilating them, the valley, and a better part of the mountain, which was the only reason the Voldemort sympathizers had survived at all.

The other giants, meanwhile, with most of them being either thankful to Bee for crushing Golgomath or else simply fearful of his strength, declared him Gurg... for all of three minutes. When they remembered that Bee was not only _not_ a giant but also wouldn't be staying much longer anyways and thus couldn't really become the Gurg, they descended into a complete free-for-all to determine who their next leader _would_ be, as was traditional whenever a Gurg died without anyone taking his title from him (ignoring the fact that Golgomath was technically still alive, as that was just a minor detail as far as they were concerned).

The fight lasted a few hours and involved most of the giants save, naturally, Golgomath and his crew, who were so badly injured that they would not have lasted even three seconds in the melee. There was a brief moment of panic when a couple of Death Eaters were caught attempting to do something no doubt most nefarious by, of all people, _Grawp_, Hagrid's newly-discovered half-brother, but it came to nothing. Nobody ever found out what they had even intended to do, because the half-giant son of Fridwulfa the Fair happened to have a protective streak a mile wide when it came to family (which he had very little of).

So when Hagrid saw them draw their wands on his little brother he _might_ have sort of accidentally lost it and blasted the Dark Wizards with his umbrella until there was nothing left of them but a couple of vaguely reddish smears. That was a little worrisome considering the fact that he had actually been going for a simple Disarming Charm, but all he could think at the moment was "good riddance."

Say what you will about Hagrid's intelligence, or his looks, or his hygiene, or his teaching skills, or his cooking, or whatever, but the man was _nothing_ if not fiercely loyal to his own. The fact that he had recognized one of them as Macnair, the murderous bloodthirsty maniac who had been sent by the Ministry a couple of years earlier to execute the (mostly) harmless and innocent hippogriff Buckbeak, _might_ also have factored somewhere into the uncharacteristic display of brutality on Hagrid's part.

Anyways, aside from that brief interruption (which earned Hagrid a small amount of grudging respect from the giants and his half-brother), the free-for-all fight to determine the next Gurg eventually ended after five and a half hours, when the relative newcomer Scanderbow managed to toss both of the favored contenders Kronus and Olena into the lake at the same time, bashing their heads together and taking them out of the running. After that, it was a simple matter of resting and recovering from their wounds.

The next morning, Hagrid and Maxime went down to the valley with another offering for the Gurg, because they were nothing if not persistent.

Things went well, and over the next few days they continued where they had left off, discussing a little each day with Scanderbow, who as it turned out was one of the giants with a bit of English, which really helped things go along smoothly. The giants took well to their messages and their gifts, and all three of them were honored and known as friends of the giants.

Eventually, on the sixth day, after Golgomath's ill-planned coup, Hagrid and Maxime went down into the gully with the last of the gifts and a final message from Dumbledore. When they got there, they found Scanderbow waiting for them with a swollen lip and several fresh lumps on his head.

Madame Maxime, naturally, asked him, "What 'appened? !"

Scanderbow chuckled, waving a hand dismissively, saying, "Is nothing, just Golgomath."

Hagrid gasped at this, looking outraged. "What'd he do?"

Bee, looking around, cocked his head to the side and grinned.

"Looks like the fool has done cut and run," he observed pleasantly, as though discussing the weather or the latest sports news around the water cooler, "He tried another coup, but Scander here won."

Olympe looked back and forth between Bee and Scanderbow, aghast.

"'Eez zees true?" she asked. "Golgomath 'az fled?"

The Gurg nodded. "He try fight me, but he lose. Then he run, and many follow."

Hagrid frowned worriedly. "How many?"

"Thirty, maybe," Scanderbow answered after mulling it over for a couple seconds.

"_Thirty?_" Hagrid exclaimed. "Tha...tha's nearly half of all o' you!"

Madame Maxime also looked worried. Anxiously, she said, "...Will you be okay? Eef 'ee tries to attack..."

Surprising both of them, Scanderbow simply laughed. Holding out his hand, he gestured at the many giants still dwelling in the valley.

"Look," he said simply, pointing out the numerous, massive denizens of the gulley. "Do you see? We _strong._ We fight for tribe."

He smiled.

"You good friends, but you help enough. We have pride too. Is big, _giant _pride," he rumbled warmly. "If they come, we will fight."

He leaned in closer, a spark of stubborn determination in his eyes.

"_And — we — will — __**win**__._"

Bee grinned at this. "Those words ring true, if any ever do," he remarked . "You've got guts, man; I _knew_ I liked you!"

**TTFN and R&R!**

* * *

_translation notes:_

_none_


	48. You Have Failed Me

**Remember the Name**

A _Naruto _x _Harry Potter_ Crossover

By

EvilFuzzy9

_"I spared your life on a whim, nothing more. But this time, my whim is telling me to finish what I started..."_

- Sasuke Uchiha, _Naruto_

* * *

**A/N: Voldemort knows that when life gives you lemons, you transfigure them into an army of undead skeletal dragons with which to conquer nations and destroy your enemies. Or something like that. Also, the quote at the top of this chapter is one I kinda really like, despite not being the biggest fan of Sasuke, and I think it fits this short chapter relatively well.  
**

* * *

Tom Marvolo Riddle scowled as he read the latest report from his new envoy to the giants. With the sudden disappearance of the first group he'd sent, among whom was one of his Marked elite, he'd had no choice but to withdraw a few others from their assignments so he could send them out to reestablish contact with the giants.

It was a risky proposition, considering how unpredictable the creatures could be, but he needed as much military power as he could gather, and the giants would comprise a significant portion of that. He could not afford to needlessly risk his best pureblood followers on the front lines, after all, and while giants were stupid and uncivilized, their sheer brute strength and considerable resilience made them indispensable for spreading havoc, particularly among the muggle world.

So the fact that barely _half _the giants appeared to exhibit _any_ kind of sympathy _at all_ with his cause was... frustrating.

"Useless fools," he snarled lowly, his grip tightening on his wand as he felt a strong urge to curse someone into oblivion.

Macnair was gone. Presumably deceased, judging by the report he'd received, because while the second team could find clear evidence that Macnair _had _been up there and meeting with the giants, there was every reason to believe that the man had gone and gotten himself killed. The reported amounts of outright enmity that most of the giants were displaying towards his team implied that Macnair had done something to severely offend the brutes.

Giants weren't intelligent by any stretch of the imagination, but they had long memories. Giants could hold grudges for decades, even across generations, to an extent almost surpassing even the most virulent blood feuds in the Wizarding World. Entire family lines of wizards had been wiped out before, in older times, simply because of something one member had done to offend some giant.

And if his followers found out that one of their own had incurred such a grudge against their entire order...?

No, he simply _could_ _not _allow that to happen. Partly because such news could lower morale and scare away many of his softer or less zealous members (which at present was most of them, sadly enough). But, more importantly, it was because it would make him look bad.

And not evil-bad, but _incompetent_-bad.

_Eugh. _It make him sick just thinking about it.

SO.

He had a (most likely) dead inner circle member, giants who apparently were not in the mood to negotiate with Death Eaters, and a need to cover up both of these things in order to keep the fresh recruits from losing their nerve and going AWOL. He knew this. The only question was, _how to do it...?_

He paused in his train of thought as a most wicked grin crossed his face.

Ooooh, _yes_. That was it. _Perfect._

Macnair was a traitor. The man had abandoned him once, when he had seemingly died, but he had been merciful and given the fool a second chance.

And Macnair wasted it. _So he killed him._

Yes, that would work perfectly. No one need ever know the truth...

Well, he would have to silence the members of the second team, of course. But if he played his cards right, convincing one or two of them to kill the others in exchange for a place among his inner circle, and then afterwards wiped their memory of anything regarding the mission to the giants, he might at least manage to gain a replacement for Macnair.

Voldemort's grin grew utterly diabolical.

Yes, that would do. His followers lived solely at his mercy, and it always did well to remind them of that. If they failed him, they died, but if they did well, then they got to live another day – everybody wins.

Mind made up, Voldemort called for Wormtail.

**TTFN and R&R!**

* * *

_translation notes:_

_none_


	49. A Secret Genius? Naaaah

**Remember the Name**

A _Naruto _x _Harry Potter_ Crossover

By

EvilFuzzy9

_"A harmless hilarity and a buoyant cheerfulness are not infrequent concomitants of genius; and we are never more deceived than when we mistake gravity for greatness, solemnity for science, and pomposity for erudition."_

- Charles Caleb

* * *

**A/N: I keep forgetting to say something about the fact that holy crap, this fic has actually exceeded 100 reviews, which is a big milestone for me, as it's the first time that ANY of my fics in the six years I've been writing on and off have broken into the triple digits with reviews. It's over twice as many reviews as my next most reviewed fics, as well as easily my second longest fic. **

**Not bad for something that started out as an idle amusement that was hammered out one day after work.**

**Anyways, this chapter shows the start of a gag I've been hankering to do for a while.**

**Also, my brother got married today (8/10/12). So that was nice. We went out to Famous Dave's afterwards, and the food was good.**

**Also, also, on my profile, there's a link to my Deviant Art profile where I posted a picture related to this fic that I drew this morning. It's decent, I'd say, and I especially like how Hermione turned out in it. So go check it out~ ;)**

* * *

Ginny groaned as she walked into the basement kitchen that morning, only to see a small group of people gathered around her brother Ron and that Slughorn guy as they played a game of Wizard's Chess.

"_Again?_" she grumbled disbelievingly, causing one of the observers – Fred, or maybe George (she was too drowsy to tell them apart at the moment) – to look up from the game.

"Oh, morning Gin," he said with a lazy wave, "Sleep well?"

"Better than you, it looks like," she remarked pointedly, stifling a yawn.

Hermione, looking up from her book (_Hermeticism at Home_, what an odd title) gave Ginny a smile.

"They've been up all night, from what I can gather," she commented brightly, pointing at Ron and Slughorn. "I'd say they're getting along quite well, aren't they?"

Ginny, glancing over at her brother and noting the intense focus on his face, nodded sleepily.

"Yeah," she said, "It sure looks that way." Surveying the game board from the other side of the table, she asked, "Who's winning?"

"Ron's ahead with two games to Slug's one," piped up one of the twins as a white bishop bashed a black knight over the head and knocked it off its horse, "But Slughorn's putting up a heck of a fight."

The once and present Potions professor looked up from the board at the sound of his name. Seeing Ginny, the rotund, mustachioed wizard smiled brightly.

"Ah! Hello," he said cheerily, yawning slightly as he waved at her, "Nice to see you're up already. _'Early to bed and early to rise, makes a witch healthy, wealthy, and wise,'_ after all."

Ginny frowned, ignoring the hypocrisy in that statement. "It's almost nine," she told him.

Slughorn blinked. Blearily, he frowned and pulled a golden pocket watch out of his robes. He blinked again as he read the time on it.

"Well, what do you know..." he mumbled, "It really is. My, how time flies!"

"Checkmate," Ron said sleepily, interrupting the professor. With a loud yawn, he collapsed face-first onto the table, scattering the chess pieces off of the board in every which way. With seconds, he was loudly snoring away and completely dead to the world.

Sirius chuckled as he walked into the room and saw Ron using the chessboard as a pillow, startling Ginny as he came up behind. "That must have been some night."

"I wouldn't know," said Ginny, quickly regaining her composure and moving out of Sirius's way. "I just got here, myself."

But Slughorn looked up at Sirius and beamed.

"The boy's a genius!" he declared, causing Fred and George to practically choke on their own tongues as they struggled to stifle their laughter. "I haven't a game of Wizard's Chess that well played since young Minerva played Albus to a draw in her fourth year. He'll go far with a mind like that, you mark my words!"

Hermione hummed thoughtfully at this, and Ginny looked at Slughorn as though he'd suddenly grown a second head. Sirius blinked, looking from Slughorn to Ron, who was currently drooling on a protesting Queen, then back to Slughorn.

"... huh," he said evidently nonplussed at the apparent absurdity of that claim.

"Well..." Hermione murmured after a moment, a thoughtful expression on her face, "I suppose if he actually applied himself, he could probably do very well..."

Slughorn chuckled at this, nodding his head.

"With a genius, it's all about getting them interested," he stated confidently. "You have to _challenge_ them, make them _need_ to apply themselves. "

Fred and George, meanwhile, sniggered at this, clearly greatly amused by the proceedings.

**TTFN and R&R!**

* * *

_translation notes:_

_none_


	50. Spite is the True Language of the Gods

**Remember the Name**

A _Naruto _x _Harry Potter_ Crossover

By

EvilFuzzy9

_"The great thought, the great concern, the great anxiety of men is to restrict, as much as possible, the limits of their own responsibility."_

- Giosué Borsi

* * *

**A/N: This chapter establishes the beginning of Karui's assignment at Hogwarts, as well as expositing a very little bit about sealing theory, some (read: a lot) of which is borrowed from funkmasterjo's **_**Naruto and his Uzumaki Heritage**_**, and such. **

**Also, I recently realized that easily half of this fic is comprised of meandering, almost-Seinfeldian dialogue between the characters. And that it's been fifty chapters, three-and-a-half months, and 65k+ words, and we **_**still**_** haven't gotten to Hogwarts yet. And it's not like I'm **_**trying**_** to drag it out, either... Oh well, at the rate I'm writing and updating, we're bound to get there **_**eventually**_**, even if it takes another fifty chapters.**

**...**_**God**_**, I hope it doesn't actually take that long. **

* * *

While that was going on, at Hogwarts Karui was sitting on top of a trunk at the end of a lone bed. She was dressed in her usual on-duty uniform and looking through a very large scroll, scowling as she read aloud.

"_'...for while others may call seals the language of the gods, it is known to us that this is not so...seals are but the shadows of the shadows of shadows, mere imitations of the most meager facets of a higher Order, primitive emulations of the Laws which govern all nature...thus, a seal's power is governed by its writer's understanding of these things, and of the purpose and intent behind each individual stroke which comprises the whole...'_"

Karui groaned, falling backwards onto the bed. The mattress conformed to the curvature of her back, supporting and cushioning it. The scroll fell out of her hands and rolled off the bed, trailing its length across the floor before finally bumping into the far wall and stopping.

Sighing, the redhead massaged her temples.

"Argh," she grumbled, "So friggin' _boring..._"

"Hey, Karui," said Omoi, peering in through her window next to the head of her new bed, "How's it going? You make any progress?"

Karui startled, falling out of bed at the sound of Omoi's voice. Then, when she regained her senses after that moment of disorientation, she got right back up and threw a pillow in his face.

"_Oy_," she said dangerously, leveling a penetrating death glare at her teammate. "What've I told you about coming in through the window, _ehh?_ I could've been _changing,_ you damn peeping tom!" she shouted.

Omoi scowled, rubbing his jaw where the pillow had hit him (Karui had a _hell_ of an arm). "What's the big deal...?" he muttered, "It's not like you've got anything worth seeing, anyways..."

"Oy, oy, oy, oy, oy... Watch it, _Omoi,_" Karui growled warningly, holding up a clenched fist, blue sparks dancing across her knuckles. Sharp, golden eyes glared at Omoi with considerable intensity, reminding the young man of why Karui had been given the moniker of "Hawk-Eye" back in the academy.

The white-haired shinobi mumbled out a weak apology, averting his gaze from his teammate's eyes (_damn_ but she could turn up the heat when she wanted to) as he nervously scratched his cheek. After that, Karui crossed her arms with a huff, scowling irritably. She impatiently tapped her foot on the floor.

"..._Well?_" she asked him after nearly a full minute of awkward silence, "Are you coming in or not?"

"Ah, right," said Omoi somewhat nervously. "Of course..."

Swinging one leg in through the window, he straddled the sill for a brief second before easily slipping the rest of his body inside, but not before slipping his sandals off. Once inside, he moved over to the bed and sat down.

"So..." he said awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck, "...How've you been?"

"Bored," Karui grunted. "There's practically nothing to do around here except read and work on those seals."

Omoi blinked.

"I see..." he said. "Have you had any luck with it, then?"

"No, I _haven't_," Karui grumbled frustratedly. "The wards are so full of holes that they look like something I'd find in your underwear drawer. They don't like anyone's bothered to update them in centuries. Literally, _centuries!_" she exclaimed.

"Eh? Geez..." Omoi murmured in disbelief. "And they're actually _still working?_"

"Of _course _not," Karui said bluntly, looking at Omoi like he was a complete idiot. "The oldest wards are so damn worn out that I almost couldn't even even tell they were _there_. Those ones are in such bad shape that you'd get better protection just throwing a big-ass tarp over the castle."

"Okay," said Omoi slowly, "but what about the newer ones, then? Those _must_ be in better shape, right?"

Karui snorted. "Honestly? The newest ones look like _shit_ compared to the older ones, even _with_ how degraded they are. Whoever did maintenance on those wards in the past obviously didn't know the first thing about sealing arts. Honestly, if you tried to fix a leak in a dam with just a cottonball and some tape, you'd still be doing a better job than whatever pants-on-head _dumbass_ tried patching these wards... I've got a whole lot of work ahead of me if I wanna make this place anything resembling defensible," she groused, sighing and shaking her head.

"But enough about me," she concluded dismissively before rounding on Omoi, eyes bright. "How'd your and Samui's mission go?" she asked probingly, prodding him for information.

Omoi was fairly quiet on that front, and quite reluctant to give anything more than the most general information.

"It's serious classified stuff, you know," he told her. "I can't exactly go around blabbing about it to everyone."

Karui huffed impatiently, glowering at him.

"What," she said snippily, "am I '_everyone_', then?"

"No!" Omoi said insistently, "But discretion is important when it comes to information. You _know _that. It's one of the most basic lessons at the Academy, after all. '_Every ear is a potential leak._'"

"Don't quote the Shinobi Code at me!" Karui snapped at him, swearing uselessly, but her words lacked heat.

She knew that it wasn't anything personal. They were teammates, after all. They'd been working together since the day their master accepted them as his genin cell, and she knew that there were times where they had to keep information from one another for the sake of the mission. It was simply a fact of life for ninja that there were inevitably times where mission security had to be put before personal curiosity, and Karui was not so immature as to try and go against that.

The redhead sighed.

"... I get it if you can't tell me the specifics, but can't you give me _anything_ to work with?" she asked him. "You two are out there risking your asses without me to get you out of trouble... I mean, it's not like I'm worried about you two, or anything..." she added insistently, her cheeks dusted with rosy tinge. "...But _someone_ has to make sure you guys make it home in one piece..."

"How _nauseating_," interjected a familiar, drawling voice, causing Karui and Omoi to jump. Looking around the room, they saw Snape standing outside the room, door open.

Karui glared daggers at him. "_Creepy!_" she angrily hollered in heavily accented English, jumping onto her feet and pointing an accusing finger at the greasy-haired teacher. "_Do you not know how knock? I could have been no dress! Sukebe! Hentai!_"

Snape shot Karui a _look_, like she was something unpleasant on the sole of his shoe but still ultimately amounted to no more than a minor annoyance.

"The door was open," he drawled in Japanese.

"... oh," Karui said, looking sheepish (but only slightly).

"Yes," said Snape, "_'Oh.'_ Now, if you are finished hurling wild accusations," — he gave her a look like he was just _daring_ her not to be — "I was sent up here by your companion to inform you that your _sensei_ has returned."

If Snape had anything more to say after that, Karui and Omoi didn't get to hear it, as they had immediately used body-flicker to dart out the window and down the side of the castle almost before he could even finish his sentence.

Scowling, the ill-tempered professor stalked off, magically locking the door to Karui's room on a spiteful whim. Sure, it was petty, and considering the ninja team's perverse insistence on entering rooms using anything _but_ the doors it probably wouldn't even amount to anything more than a mild inconvenience, but he'd be _damned_ if it wasn't cathartic.

Especially when he imagined he was doing it to Lupin and Black.

Darkly smiling ever-so-slightly at that mental image, Snape departed, cloak bellowing theatrically behind him.

**TTFN and R&R!**

* * *

_translation notes:_

_"sukebe" - pervert_

_"hentai" - strange, abnormal; alternatively, deviant or pervert _


	51. What Could Possibly Go Wrong?

**Remember the Name**

A _Naruto _x _Harry Potter_ Crossover

By

EvilFuzzy9

_"Summing up, it is clear the future holds great opportunities. It also holds pitfalls. The trick will be to avoid the pitfalls, seize the opportunities, and get back home by six o'clock."_

- Woody Allen

* * *

**A/N: I've had most of that second scene written up and waiting to be used since I can't even remember how many chapters back. With this chapter, we are **_**finally**_** getting into the events of the actual book, however slowly.**

**Also, I apologize in advance for how short this chapter is, but the next chapter is shaping up nicely, and looking like it might turn out at a decent length. **

**Anyways, thanks for sticking with me and my slow-ass plot progression. I've got most of this coming week off, so you might see a slight upswing in updates. Maybe.  
**

* * *

Down by Hagrid's hut, Samui grinned coolly as she greeted Karui and Omoi, waving them over from across the grounds.

"_Over here!_"the blonde called out in Japanese, sitting on the edge of the wooden fence bordering the school's vegetable patch near Hagrid's hut.

Dressed in her accustomed ensemble of a simple, low-cut dark blouse and a short, tight skirt, Samui's appearance was not one that would have struck the average civilian observer as _dangerous_, per se, but she was nonetheless perfectly capable of taking care of herself. As a recently minted jōnin of _Kumogakure no Sato_, what Samui lacked in experience and raw punching power she made up for in skill and talent, and she could certainly handle herself in a fight.

Not far from her, Hagrid was shamelessly spoiling his massive boarhound Fang, giving the affectionate beast the tummy rub of a lifetime. Killer Bee, meanwhile, stood further off to the side in the shade of the hut, casually penning a status report to send back home.

Then, with all the suddenness of a lightning bolt, Karui and Omoi vanished from the far end of the grounds. And just as instantly, they appeared in the group's midst with a puff of smoke and a flash of electrical sparks, respectively.

As one, the two immediately greeted their mentor with simultaneous flying tackle-hugs.

"_Sensei!_"

* * *

Meanwhile, in Little Whinging, Surrey, one Mundungus Fletcher was keeping an eye on one Harry Potter. The dirty, shabbily dressed thief, con artist, and Order member was hidden under a second hand Invisibility Cloak that he had "legally acquired" from a "reputable business partner".

If you could have seen the man whom many called "Dung", you might have noted that he looked anxious and wound up. He was fidgeting, shifting nervously on his feet and frequently looking at his watch, as though he were waiting for something.

Mundungus Fletcher was not happy. He had not wanted this shift, but he'd had no other choice except to accept it. It hadn't been without reluctance, but he'd been in a tight spot with no other choice.

Many of the members of the Order of the Phoenix disliked him, citing the fact that an admittedly slightly high percentage of his wares often turned out to have been stolen goods – not that _he _had stolen them, himself. He was _not_ a thief, and there was no evidence to say that he was.

Not that the aurors could find, at least.

Anyways, Dung was in a bind. You see, he had arranged a meeting with one of his business contacts about some cauldrons that had "fallen off the back of a broom". A meeting that had been scheduled for that day.

Unfortunately, this shift had been foisted off on him at the last minute, and he had not had a chance to reschedule. He was supposed to meet the seller in a few minutes, but his shift didn't end for another three hours. There was no way he could make the meeting without skiving off, and the other Order members would be VERY displeased with him if he did so, Molly especially. That woman could be utterly _terrifying_ when she got really mad, and nothing hacked her off more than "endangering children".

But, still... These cauldrons were supposed to be in perfect condition, and cheap as dirt to boot... a deal like that didn't come around every day.

Yeah... he told himself, and it wasn't like he'd be gone long, either. It'd only take him ten minutes, twenty tops, to pop in on his contact and check out those cauldrons. How much trouble could the boy _possibly_ get into in such a short amount of time? _None_, judging by how he was just lying in that flower bush like a lump on a log.

Dung grinned, chuckling slightly as he nodded to himself. Hell, he thought, if he was careful about it, nobody would ever even notice he was gone, and maybe _then_ they would stop getting on his back about being "unreliable".

Mind made up, Mundungus Fletcher rotated on the spot, feeling the familiar sensation of being squeezed through a small, dark pipe as he apparated. The last thought going through his mind before he left Privet Drive behind was, _'What could possibly go wrong?'_

Famous last words.

**TTFN and R&R!**

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_translation notes:_

_none_


	52. Mutual Interests

**Remember the Name**

A _Naruto _x _Harry Potter_ Crossover

By

EvilFuzzy9

_"It is my belief... that the truth is generally preferable to lies."_

- Albus Dumbledore

* * *

**A/N: This chapter introduces another, mysterious player in the intrigue, one who is by all appearances allied with Umbridge. **

**... yes, yes, I'll get to the results of Dung's negligence in the next chapter, don't worry. I'm just setting some things up, here...**

* * *

It was getting late. It had been a slow day at the Ministry of Magic, and some of the luckier, lower ranking day shift employees were already starting to wrap up their work and punch out on the clock. Few people truly enjoyed the sort of mindless pencil pushing that comprised nearly ninety percent of the jobs in the ministry, and so most ministry workers were only all too glad for the chance to actually punch out when their shifts ended for once, as opposed to only when all their work was finished (which was usually an hour or two overtime).

No matter where in the world you went, bureaucracy was a pointlessly tedious thing, a paradoxical monolith of efficiency and wastefulness that eroded away the spirits of all but the most outright _banal_ individuals.

And Dolores Jane Umbridge just so happened to be one such person. She was an unpleasant, condescending woman who was as at home in the world of bureaucracy as _Cryptococcus neoformans _was in the shattered, irradiated hell of Chernobyl reactor four. And much like _C. neoformans_, Umbridge was also capable of metabolizing intense, otherwise lethal levels of gamma radiation to fuel her growth in the place of regular sunlight.

Now, surprisingly, this pudgy, pink-clad protozoan was one of the most politically powerful people in all of Wizarding Britain. Yes, I know it's shocking, but as the undersecretary to the minister of magic, Miss Umbridge wielded a considerable level of influence over ministry policy and legislature, a level of control that worried the more moderate factions within the ministry. The woman was well known, among certain circles, as being very... _extreme_... in her views and agendas, and no amount of sugar-coating on her part could hide this.

She was ruthless. You had to be, if you wanted to make it in the cutthroat world of politics, but that woman _thrived_ in the arena of backstabbing and lies, flourishing there as only a demon could.

Dolores J. Umbridge was _not_ a nice person. She was the sort who would do whatever it took to ensure the security of her power, and by association the power of the ministry. She adored cute things, and fancied herself as feminine and charming, but at her core was a pulsing heart of darkness. She was ambitious and ruthless, willing to do whatever it took to protect her interests.

Even if it meant potentially signing the death warrant of a fifteen year old boy.

Umbridge smiled sweetly at this thought as she walked through the halls of the executive level of the Ministry of Magic, headed in the direction of her office. Yes, she thought, soon that child would be silenced. One way or another, his lies would cease. Even if the dementors she had sent out somehow failed to achieve anything to that end, her... _ally_... would not.

Already, his agents had done her a great deal of good, quieting the complaints of any number of rabble-rousers and taking many of her strongest opponents out of commission... a couple drops of weak poison here, a few careful threats there, and _voila!_ No more obstacles in her way. And all she had to do in return was make that man a few meaningless promises and funnel a few hundred galleons his way – a pittance of an amount, with her considerable resources.

Her smile widened as her thoughts turned to the contents of her ally's most recent correspondence, which she held in her hand along with a small stack of forms and papers that needed to be filled out and filed.

_'Your concerns, I have concluded, are not without merit,'_ he had written,_ 'That boy must be silenced. However, I question the efficacy of the plan you outlined... Whilst undermining his credibility might dissuade others from listening to him, there are nonetheless more permanent, and more effective, ways of dealing with the Potter boy's sort...need I remind you, that dead men tell no tales...?'_

Now, Umbridge was admittedly a little put off at her ally's insistence on having that nuisance assassinated, even if her chosen plan _was_ admittedly playing it a bit fast and loose with the target's chances of survival. She knew her ally meant well, but the man was too quick to choose death... there was, in her opinion, a time and place where outright assassination might be justified, but her ally did not see eye to eye with her on what justified such extreme measures, frequently saying she was too lenient...

Umbridge giggled sickeningly at that thought as she walked past the minister's office, knowing full well that a number people would be horrified at the thought of her being considered _lenient_. She was so caught up in her imaginings that she did not notice when the door to the minister's office opened, nor when Lucius Malfoy stepped out of it.

She did, however, notice when she crashed into him and the papers in her arm went flying, getting scattered across the floor in a great mess.

"Ah!" she squeaked, dismayed at the mess and fumbling for her wand. "My apologies, Lucius..."

"No matter," Lucius said smoothly when he saw who it was who'd run into him. Seeing Umbridge's distress, he produced his wand with a flick of his wrist. "Allow me," he said, sounding deceptively chivalrous as he swished his wand and caused the papers to fly up off the ground.

The forms and notices levitated briefly in the air, fluidly arranging themselves into the order in which they had been before the collision, only to pause momentarily when Lucius's eyes fell upon a certain piece of parchment – the letter.

"Well, well, well..." he muttered, eyes flicking over the note, "Interesting..."

Looking up from the letter, flicking his wand so that the papers finished sorting themselves, he met Umbridge's eyes, an umistakeable glint in his own. Umbridge knew that look, she had seen it any number of times over her years of working with the man. It was the look he had whenever he found blackmail to hold over some poor fool's head.

Umbridge blanched, having a bad feeling she knew where this was headed.

"I would suggest, Madame Undersecretary," Lucius said with a voice as smooth as poison as he handed over the stack of newly resorted papers, "that you be more careful in the future. After all, we would not want... _sensitive documents_... falling into the wrong hands, now, would we?" he said, his words loaded, before turning on his heel and walking away.

Umbridge was barely even conscious of her actions as she raced the rest of the way to her office. Her mind was stuck on what had just happened, terrified beyond rational belief.

She'd been found out, and by Lucius Malfoy, of all people! Oh, this was _horrible._ She had to do something... she _needed_ to do something. If he told anyone, it would all be over for her. And even if he didn't, the thought of him using that knowledge, holding it over her head for the rest of her days...

No, she couldn't let that happen. She had to do something...

She needed _help. _

Tearing into her office, sealing the door shut behind her with the strongest charm she could manage, Umbridge scooped a handful of floo powder out of the flowery ceramic jar atop her fireplace. Flicking her wand to conjure a decently sized fire in the pit, she tossed the powder in and stuck her head into the fireplace.

She felt the familiar sense of vertigo that came with doing a firecall, and as her head spun through the flames she found herself thankful she had managed to convince her... _associate_... to let her connect their fireplaces. The man was paranoid, but she had assured him that her fireplace was not monitored – one of the privileges of her position at the ministry. Still, he had been adamant that she not contact him via this method unless she absolutely had to.

But she felt this situation warranted it.

She opened her eyes to darkness. Shadows bathed the room in oblivion, making it impossible to discern its size. The light cast by the fireplace seemed to be actively stifled by the gloom, and only made the shadows that much more pronounced.

Before her eyes, near the center of the room where the darkness seemed thickest, the silhouette of a man stood alert. A single dark eye opened, the fire reflected in its sclera.

Seeing that she had his attention, Umbridge spoke, her tone carefully controlled, not betraying any of her nervousness or anxiety.

"_We have a problem_."

**TTFN and R&R!**

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_translation notes:_

_none_


	53. PTSDementor

**Remember the Name**

A _Naruto _x _Harry Potter_ Crossover

By

EvilFuzzy9

_"There are times when fear is good. It must keep its watchful place at the heart's controls."_

- Aeschylus

* * *

**A/N: This is the second chapter uploaded in one day, 8/14/2012, and judging by the progress I've been making, there may very well be a **_**third**_** one on the way. It's crazy how much writing I can get done when I have the time.  
**

**Anyways, with this chapter we see some of the results of Dung's negligence. The actual action is not shown, because there would not have been any appreciable differences from how it happened in canon, and it's one of those scenes that's just been remixed so much that there's is no realistic way you can actually improve upon it. **

**Anyways, a lot of the dialogue in this chapter is either lifted or remixed from from **_**Dudley Demented **_**and **_**A Peck of Owls**_**. **

* * *

Harry shivered as he carried the insensate form of his much larger cousin. His limbs were shaking, and he felt numb. The dementors were gone, for sure, having been driven off by his desperate Patronus Charm, yet he did not feel safe.

There was a prickly feeling at the back of his neck as he hauled Dudley down the street, and a knot had formed in his stomach, which felt like it was several inches lower in his abdomen than it had any right being. He was nervous and jumpy, and it felt like someone was_ watching _him.

Every shadow in the dusky light seemed like it was following him. He was constantly whipping his head around this way in that, anxiously thinking he heard something in the bushes. His wand was clutched tightly in his hand even as he lugged Dudley down Magnolia Crescent, held at the ready to stave off any potential attackers.

Harry's nerves were badly frayed from the attack. Every time he closed his eyes, _every time he blinked_, he saw that bright green light, that damnable light which had been forever burned into his memory, seemingly tattooed upon the backs of his eyelids. In the silence, he could still hear the shrill, high pitched laughter that had echoed in his head, and the words that had been whispered into the back of his mind.

_"Bow to death, Harry... It might even be painless...I would not know...I have never died..."_

Harry shuddered, shifting Dudley's weight on his shoulders. Even though the moon and stars and streetlamps shined once more, their light seemed dimmer than before. The rumble of cars in the distance sounded duller, somehow. Harry's sense were on high alert, and yet everything seemed slightly less real than it had before, as though he was perceiving the world through a thick haze that dampened light and muted sound.

It did not seem possible, he thought, T-shirt drenched through with a cold sweat, that the world could go on as normal after something like that. Idly he wondered if anyone had even noticed what had just happened.

Probably not. Everyone in Little Whinging lived inside their own little bubble of mundanity, blissfully ignorant of the horrors that lurked in their own backyard. Even if they _could_ see things like dementors, the muggles inhabiting this idyllic corner of the world would like as not just pretend that such things didn't exist.

Morbidly chuckling, Harry was reminded of what Stan Shunpike had told that time on the Knight Bus in the summer before his third year.

"_How come muggles don't hear the bus?_" he'd asked the pimply-faced teen.

"_Them! Don' listen properly, do they?_" Shunpike had said,"_Don' look properly either. Never notice nuffink, they don'_"

Harry shook his head, glancing nervously over his shoulder. He felt exposed, like anyone could look outside and tell _exactly_ what he was. His nerves were shot, he was shivering and wild-eyed, exceedingly conscious of how he looked.

Then he heard footsteps, hurried-sounding and headed towards him.

Reflexively, acting on instincts honed by countless brushes with death and danger, he automatically spun around and pointed his wand at the newcomer without barely even a thought.

When he saw that it was just their eccentric, cat-loving neighbor, Mrs. Figg, he almost breathed a sigh of relief. That was, until he realized that he still had his wand out and pointed right at her.

Frantically, he made to stow it out of sight, only for the woman to shriek, "Don't put it away, idiot boy! What if there are more of them around?" She looked livid as she sprinted over, feet nearly slipping out of her tartan slippers and a shopping bag hanging from her wrist. "Oh, I'm going to _kill_ Mundungus Fletcher!" she shouted furiously.

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw something glint in the light of the streetlamps. Anxiously, he turned his head to get a better look, only to see nothing.

"What are you looking at, boy?" Mrs. Figg snapped, causing Harry to shake his head and look back at her.

"S-sorry," he said, dropping Dudley to the ground as gently as he could manage (well, maybe not _quite_ as gently – he did not much care for his cousin, after all, seeing as how years of bullying could, _surprisingly_,cause a person to build up quite the store of resentment for their tormentors). "But, _what?_" he asked, somehow managing to communicate all of his bewilderment and confusion into that single word.

"He left!" said Mrs. Figg, looking both anxious and angry. "Left to see someone about a batch of cauldrons that fell off the back of a broom! I told him I'd flay him alive if he went and did anything like that, and now look!" she wailed, "_Dementors!_ It's a good thing I put Mr. Tibbles on the case! But we haven't got time to stand around!

"Hurry, now," she told him authoritatively, using the same tone as she had whenever she'd been babysitting him and needed him to do something, like clean out the litter box, "pick up that useless lump of a cousin and follow me! We've got to get you back! Oh, the trouble this is going to cause!" she moaned frustratedly. "I will _kill _him!"

Harry, more confused than ever with numerous questions flying through his head, nonetheless did just as Mrs. Figg said. He was too anxious at the moment to worry about such things. He still felt like someone, or _something_, was watching him, and it made him feel terribly uneasy. Honestly, he was just grateful for a excuse to hurry and leave that area as soon as possible, and too relieved by the presence of an adult who actually seemed to know what was going on to quibble over this or that at the moment.

And so he left, following after Mrs. Figg with Dudley draped clumsily over his shoulder. He did not notice the rustling of the hedges behind them, or the presence of a small, barely noticeable insect on his pants leg.

**TTFN and R&R!**

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_translation notes:_

_none_


	54. Out of the Loop

**Remember the Name**

A _Naruto _x _Harry Potter_ Crossover

By

EvilFuzzy9

_"I keep six honest serving-men,_

_They taught me all I knew;_

_Their names are What and Why and When_

_And How and Where and Who."_

- Rudyard Kipling

* * *

**A/N: Okay, so this chapter borrows a bit of dialogue from **_**A Peck of Owls,**_** with Harry (who, may I remind you, has been kept pretty much completely out of the loop) trying to figure out just what the **_**hell**_** is going on. **

**I actually got most of this chapter written up yesterday, but then I got distracted after uploading the previous two, in part thanks to **_**Naruto Shippuden Ultimate Ninja Impact**_**, where I got into playing Itachi and wound up grinding him up all the way from level 39 to level 70 (and at that level, his stats are very similar to Sasuke's, except for a noticeably higher Ninjutsu (it's hard to tell exactly, since it measures stats with a sort of graph and doesn't actually show numerical values for them)). Also, Sage Mode Naruto is absolute **_**rape**_** against basically anything and everything in that game. Sadly, Bee's a little awkward to play, and Sakura's Attack stat is nothing special (which I say is **_**bullshit**_**). **

**And don't even get started on how poorly they handled Danzō, or **_**Pain**_**... Still, if they released another Naruto game in that style, with basically the same gimmick, some more characters, and maybe better balancing, I would totally buy the **_**shit**_** out of it. Even if I had to buy a PSVita to play it (and I have no current intentions of buying a PSVita, since it is incompatible with PSP memory cards, so that should tell you how much I enjoy the play-style of that game).**

**[8/16/2012 - EDIT: Fixed a spacing error that was pointed out by SaturnXK.]  
**

* * *

The walk back to Number Four Privet Drive was a tense one. Harry had managed to mostly calm down, no longer jumping at every little thing sound. The same could not be said for Mrs. Figg, who kept throwing nervous glances over her shoulder every few seconds.

"Don't put that wand away, boy!" she sharply reminded Harry, who had been about to do just that as he struggled with lugging his large cousin down the street. "I won't be any use if those things come back!"

"Why not?" Harry asked her, nearly panting with exertion. "You... You _are_ a — er — you know — a _witch_, right? Can't you just drive them off with a Patronus?"

"Oh heavens, no!" said Mrs. Figg, absently worrying at her hairnet. "I'm no witch, boy. Never so much as transfigured a teabag my whole life."

"What — ?" Harry said, surprised, "But — "

"I'm a _squib_, dear — " she explained, before pausing for a second, looking back at Harry. " — you... _do_ know what a squib is, don't you?" she asked him, a strange look on her face that Harry couldn't quite place.

When he nodded yes, she visibly relaxed.

"Oh, good, good," she said, sounding relieved. "I'd hate to have to explain it to you _now _of all times... Never thought it was a good idea, having you raised around muggles, you know, especially not with ones like Petunia or Vernon..." she muttered. "It's a marvel they didn't throw you out the second they found you on their doorstep, knowing them. _My_, but I remember how Petunia screamed when she found you there. I'll never understand _why_ she consented to take you in, either – it's clear as anything the woman simply can't _stand _magic – but then I guess Dumbledore _did _know what he was doing, after all..."

Harry frowned slightly. "You — er — know Dumbledore?" he asked her.

"Of course I know Dumbledore," Mrs. Figg responded offhandedly, "Who _doesn't_ know Dumbledore?"

"Oh..." Harry said weakly. He was silent for a moment, before asking, "Who's Mundungus Fletcher, then? Was _he_ the one who apparated away in front of my house?"

"He was indeed, the scoundrel!" said she. "Honestly, running off and leaving you without any protection!"

"Er, protection?" Harry said quizzically.

Mrs. Figg eyed Harry strangely for a moment, before saying, "Yes, protection, though _why_ they thought that _idiot_ could ever count as such is quite simply beyond me..."

"Um," said Harry nervously, "Who are '_they_'?"

Mrs. Figg frowned, looking left and right like she was checking for something, before turning to Harry and telling him, "Nothing you need to worry about right now. Not while we're out here in the open... Alastor would _kill_ me if I compromised anything."

Harry frowned.

"Alastor?" he said disbelieving. "Do you mean as in, Alastor _Moody?_ The _auror?_"

Mrs. Figg sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "No wonder Hagrid can never keep a secret from you three for very long, with how nosy just _one_ of you can be! But you'd best be careful about asking too many questions, Harry," she warned him. "We can't afford to have people getting suspicious, you understand..."

Harry's frown deepened. He _did_ stop prodding, however reluctantly it was. He still had so many more questions to ask, but it was clear to him that he wasn't going to be getting any answers just yet.

They walked the rest of the way to the Dursley's without further incident, and Mrs. Figg dropped him off outside the door, saying that if the Dursleys found out about her, they wouldn't allow her around any more.

So Harry bid her farewell and reluctantly turned to open the door, only to hear Mrs. Figg shouting, "_MUNDUNGUS FLETCHER, I AM GOING TO KILL YOU!_" which was followed by a loud crack.

Faintly, his ears ringing from the volume of his neighbor's scream, Harry heard a man's voice saying, "_'S' up, Figgy? What 'appened to staying undercover?_"

Then Mrs. Figg cried, "_I'll give you undercover! __**Dementors**__, you useless, skiving sneak thief!_"

Naturally, that was when Uncle Vernon swung open the front door, roaring, "_WHAT IS WITH ALL THAT INFERNAL RACKET?_" only to be nearly bowled over by a squat, unshaven, ginger-haired man in a ratty overcoat, who appeared to be fleeing from an infuriated Mrs. Figg.

Harry sighed.

This was going to be troublesome. He just _knew_ it.

**TTFN and R&R!**

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_translation notes:_

_none_


	55. The Privet Drive Shouting Contest

**Remember the Name**

A _Naruto _x _Harry Potter_ Crossover

By

EvilFuzzy9

_"The Bible tells us to love our neighbors, and also to love our enemies; probably because they are generally the same people."_

- G. K. Chesterton

* * *

**A/N: With the most recent chapters of the Naruto manga, especially 597, it's looking and sounding more and more like that old ObiTobi theory might actually be **_**correct**_**. Which is just crazy, since that theory has been around for, well, as long as **_**Tobi**_** has, but it hasn't been taken seriously by fans in **_**years**_**. Which makes it even wilder that it might actually be true.**

**Anyways, in this chapter... things get pretty damn serious. There's a touch of gore, a healthy bit of mindscrew, and even a little strong language. And me being deliberately vague with certain details regarding certain events.**

**Also, I've posted a companion fic for this called _Damnatio Memoria_ that is basically a collection of drabbles and oneshots set in the RtN-verse. It's only one chapter long, right now, but still. _Go check it out~_  
**

* * *

This... was a complete mess, Harry decided. Things had gone from tolerable to bad, from bad to worse, and from worse to a _complete_ _clusterfuck_.

First, Mrs. Figg had started screaming at Mundungus Fletcher. Then Uncle Vernon had come out of the house to shout at Mrs. Figg to keep it down, only for Mundungus to collide with him.

That, naturally, had _infuriated _Vernon, who had taken one look at the disheveled, disreputable-looking Fletcher and gone red in the face from outrage. So he had started roaring at Mundungus to get off of his property or he'd call the cops. And all the while Mrs. Figg had been whaling on the man with her shopping bag, which was filled with tins of catfood from the sound of it.

Then Aunt Petunia had come out to see what all the racket was about. Naturally, her eyes had instantly gravitated towards Harry, automatically assuming he had something to do with the commotion. And when she saw her "darling Dudderkins" unconscious and draped over Harry's shoulder, she had immediately lost it and started shrieking and clawing at her nephew to try and make him let go of her son. This had only added to the confusion, and soon the whole affair had devolved into a long shouting match between Vernon, Petunia, and Mrs. Figg.

At some point, in order to avoid attracting the suspicion of their neighbors, Harry's aunt and uncle "politely" invited Mrs. Figg and Mundungus inside, where they could continue their "discussion" in relative privacy. Petunia had been very, _very_ reluctant to let the filthy Fletcher into her spotlessly clean home, but the prospect of the scandal that would erupt if the other neighbors saw what was going on was sufficient impetus for her to anxiously shoo the group inside.

And so it continued, for a short while, with Mrs. Figg screaming at Mundungus and Petunia, Vernon roaring at Mundungus and Mrs. Figg, Petunia screeching at Harry, Harry shouting at Vernon and Petunia (for the heck of it, mostly), Mundungus cowering behind Dudley's bulk, and Dudley lying unconscious on the kitchen floor.

There's no knowing how long things might have continued in that fashion on their own, because just as a purple-faced Vernon reached over to fiercely grab Harry by the shoulder, presumably to give him a good bodily shake for getting his son into such a state, the front of the house suddenly exploded. Splinters and glass shards flew through the air like a hurricane of knives and arrows.

Vernon was the first to fall, his ponderous bulk providing no defense against the bullet-speed shrapnel. There was blood everywhere soaking down his front leaking from his wounds and befouling his shirt. He was rigid as he fell, his muscles still tense even in death. His face was screwed into a bizarre half-way expression between anger and shock.

Fletcher was the next to go, the splintered arm of a coat rack gruesomely stabbing through the back of his head, the other end just barely peeking through his forehead. Red and bits of pink dripped from the darkly varnished piece of wood as the craven, unshaven man's glassy eyes stared uncomprehendingly at Harry. The man didn't see it coming at all, he probably didn't even know he was dying until it was already too late.

Petunia and Mrs. Figg survived the explosion with only minor cuts, and Harry himself had just a few splinters in his arms. Dudley was the only who escaped unscathed, having already been lying prone on the floor.

But then something from Harry's nightmares walked in through the massive whole where the front of the house had once been.

Sickly pale skin, paper white and smooth, completely bald. A nose so recessed into the face as to be just a pair of slits. Horribly glowing crimson eyes that seemed like they belonged on a monster or a devil. A tapered, polished wand lazily clutched in long, slender fingers.

Voldemort smiled hideously, and like great, black wings spreading from his back, darkly clad Death Eaters appeared at his side, flanking his rear. Sneering skull masks stared gleefully at their prize.

Lifting his wand, the Dark Lord uttered a single incantation.

"_Avada kedavra._"

A jet of green light streaked past Harry. He heard the thump of a body falling to the floor.

Again, Voldemort waved his wand.

"_Avada kedavra._"

With another flash of green light, another body hit the floor.

Harry hissed through his teeth as he felt his scar erupt as Voldemort slowly, ominously walked closer. His brow felt like it was being branded with a burning spike, his head feeling like it was about to split in half. He was blinded by unimaginable pain, unable to see anything for a moment but endless darkness and flashing spots.

When sight returned to him, Harry saw burning red eyes boring down into his own. Voldemort's wand was poised over his throat.

Harry couldn't move. His limbs refused to respond as he desperately tried to knock away Voldemort's wand or reach for his own or do anything at all to escape. Beyond all rational thought, Harry began descending into panic.

The Dark Lord smiled as he saw the fear in the eyes of the most hated obstacle in his way. His lips began to move, enunciating the first syllables of the spell that would end the boy's life.

...only to be stopped by a large, meaty hand grabbing his wrist, as a familiar voice shouted into Harry's ears, "_WAKE UP!_"

Harry opened his eyes in shock, and the world melted away. No longer was the house in ruins. All that remained of Harry's vision was the blurry, lingering image of a white, featureless face and a large pink hand grabbing a thin, pale wrist.

No longer were Vernon and Petunia or Figg and Fletcher lying dead on the floor. Instead, they were standing around the room. Mrs. Figg looked fretful, Fletcher looked chastised, Petunia looked conflicted, Vernon looked angry, glaring at something outside Harry's field of vision, and Dudley...

Harry frowned, looking up at Dudley, who was looking down at him almost... _proudly_.

The other, larger boy, seeing his cousin looking up at him, gave Harry a wan smile and waved a handless, bandaged wrist at him.

Harry gaped.

"_What happened to your hand?_" he blurted out stupidly.

"We're even," was all Dudley said, further confounding Harry. He would have asked the other boy to clarify what he meant, but he was interrupted by a loud shout from the Dursley patriarch.

"NO!" Harry heard his uncle Vernon bellow. "We're not keeping him! That boy isn't going to be staying here a _minute_ longer! _He_ led that freak here! My family wouldn't have been in any danger if it weren't for him...! DON'T GIVE ME THAT! _MY SON — !_"

Harry winced at the volume of Vernon's roaring, and found himself curiously turning his head to see what poor sap had gotten the man all worked up.

His eyes widened, and his heart skipped a beat.

"Professor — !"

Blue eyes twinkled, and a bearded, elderly wizard smiled down at him.

"Hello, Harry," said Professor Dumbledore, skillfully ignoring Vernon Dursley's angry ranting. "I hope I haven't come at a bad time."

**TTFN and R&R!**

* * *

_translation notes:_

_none_


	56. The Unknown Enemy is the Worst Kind

**Remember the Name**

A _Naruto _x _Harry Potter_ Crossover

By

EvilFuzzy9

_"Let us rise up and be thankful, for if we didn't learn a lot today, at least we learned a little, and if we didn't learn a little, at least we didn't get sick, and if we got sick, at least we didn't die; so, let us all be thankful."_

- Buddha

* * *

**A/N: Maaah, it took me a few days to update. I had some really long shifts at work after that short vacation, so I was too worn out to do any writing. And my fingers still hurt a bit too much to do very much typing right now. **

**Now, hopefully this chapter helps clear things up at least a little, though there's still a lot of details that I've deliberately left vague. Also, Harry is a very angry teen at this point in the series, so he's kind of a drag to write.**

* * *

"Hello, Harry," said Professor Dumbledore. "I hope I haven't come at a bad time."

"O-of course not, sir..." Harry stammered out, nervously shooting a glance at his fuming uncle. "But... what are you doing here?"

Dumbledore sighed, and Harry noticed that the man looked far older than he'd ever seen him before.

"I am afraid, Harry," said he, "that you are no longer safe here."

Harry's heart skipped a beat and a half at this pronouncement. Could it be? Would he finally be able to leave the Durlseys forever? Even if it was under circumstances like this, he was still immeasurably glad at the prospect of saying goodbye to Number Four Privet Drive for what would hopefully be the _last_ time.

A great indescribable joy started welling up in his heart at this thought, only to be ruthlessly stamped down by a traitorous voice in the back of his mind that whispered, _'No, not like this...'_

Harry scowled inwardly. Dammit, but he had a good point. This was a hollow victory, he realized. He didn't really know what had happened, aside from what he could deduce from what little he had seen. Somehow, he'd fallen or been knocked unconscious, and while he was out of it, he'd had a... dream? ...a vision? of... _something_.

Well, whatever it had been, he couldn't remember many details from it. Much like a dream, the more he tried to recollect, the more details that slipped out of his head; it was like trying to catch water in a sieve. All he could remember was an blank, strangely featureless white face and a large hand grabbing a pale wrist... or were those memories from whatever had happened while he was out of it?

Harry's mental scowl deepened. There was no way to be certain, though he suspected that the hand he remembered had been Dudley's. ...Was that why he'd said they were even? Had his cousin somehow lost his hand _protecting him?_

It was an utterly bizarre thought, and Harry would have dismissed it out of hand if not for the evidence supporting it, and a vague memory of very young Dudley shouting, "_Harry's __mine__! Nobody can pick on him but __me__!_"

It was an odd memory to come to the forefront of his mind at this very moment after who knows how many years of laying forgotten in the depths of his brain, and it was hard for Harry to imagine his childhood tormentor standing up for him in any way, but then again he supposed that Dudley _had _been a very selfish child...

And as Harry mulled over these things, he found him thinking of how he had been kept out of the loop by _everyone_ all summer, how he'd sent away to the Dursleys by Dumbledore and the others the same as always, without so much as a second thought for how miserable he'd be there. And even now, Dumbledore was probably only here because of the dementors and whatever else had happened, wasn't he?

Hell, the man had basically said as much, himself...

Harry's expression soured, growing dark as he found himself rebelliously muttering under his breath.

"I see," he said bitterly. "So that's how it is..."

"Harry..." said Dumbledore slowly.

"Was I supposed to be _safe _here?" Harry snapped, surprising nearly everyone present. "Well, you did a bang up job of that, didn't you? Dementors and Death Eaters! If this is what you call _safe_, then I'd sure hate to see what you consider _dangerous!_"

Dumbledore's expression was sad as he looked at Harry.

"Circumstances have changed..." he said grimly. "Much which once was true is now uncertain."

Harry scowled darkly at Dumbledore, frustrated with the man's seeming evasiveness. He was about to open his mouth to yell some more, only to be stopped by a hand on his shoulder.

"Don't lose your cool," he heard a woman's voice say. "You're lucky we got here as soon as we did, or else your cousin might have lost more than just a hand."

Turning to face the person addressing him, Harry saw a not-unattractive young woman with narrow turquoise eyes and short blond hair looking down at him. She was a bit taller than Harry, and as a result his eye-level was closer to her considerable cleavage than her eyes.

It was a testament to both Harry's self control and the gravity of the situation that the boy managed to avoid staring and instead met her eyes with his own forest greens. He frowned, though, as he considered her words.

"What do you mean?" he asked. "...What happened, anyways? And who are you?"

The young woman glanced over at Dumbledore, almost seeming to be looking for permission for something. Apparently she found whatever she was looking for, because she soon looked back at Harry.

"An agent of uncertain affiliation managed to infiltrate the defensive wards placed on this house," she said, holding up a small glass vial filled with an amber colored liquid, within which was suspended a very small, unusual-looking insect, "using _this_."

"Huh?" Harry said confusedly. "What wards? And how would that bug...?"

The woman frowned thoughtfully.

"The blood wards bound to the foundations of this house," she explained slowly. "From what I understand, they're bound to a mystical protection of some sort..."

Harry's eyes widened in realization, feeling an ache in his heart as he recalled the visage of the apparition that had appeared from Voldemort's wand in the graveyard. His mother's sacrifice...

"...And _'that bug'_, as you so eloquently put it," continued the woman, either not noticing or not caring about the look in Harry's eyes, "is a very unique species. It's complicated, but basically it's part of an entire hive of special insects cultivated within the bodies of a certain warrior clan as part of a symbiotic relationship – they feed on their hosts, and their hosts use them in battle... and for many other things, as well."

Harry felt sick as he tried to imagine having an entire hive of those creatures living inside his body. He shuddered as he felt the phantom sensation of thousands of insects swarming around just under his skin.

"And these guys are working with Voldemort?" he said, feeling vaguely ill.

The woman gave him another odd look, and she shook her head.

"No," she said, "_Aburame ichizoku..._ They are not the sort of people to work with just anyone. Someone like the Dark Lord would probably never be able to win their loyalty."

Harry scowled, looking from the woman to Dumbledore. The others in the room were watching the proceedings, and Vernon and Petunia were looking particularly disgusted with this topic of discussion.

"So what are you saying?" he asked incredulously. "That some far off clan of bug warriors all of a sudden decided they wanted me dead?"

"... we don't know," the woman said after a moment of silence. "And that's not even the most worrisome part. There was only one attacker, and the modus operandi was that of an experienced assassin... all of that points to someone putting out a hit on you."

Harry frowned. "That doesn't sound like Voldemort..." he said reluctantly, considering what he knew of the man's irrational desire to finish him off personally.

"And that's what worries us," said Dumbledore grimly.

**TTFN and R&R!**

* * *

_translation notes:_

_"aburame ichizoku" - aburame clan; also, the name aburame is, if I remember correctly, written as "oil-woman", and is also a pun on the japanese word for cockroach, "aburamushi"_


	57. Gratitude is a Hard Thing to Find

**Remember the Name**

A _Naruto _x _Harry Potter_ Crossover

By

EvilFuzzy9

_"In certain trying circumstances, urgent circumstances, desperate circumstances, profanity furnishes a relief denied even to prayer."_

- Mark Twain

* * *

**A/N: Hmm, the previous two chapters have gotten a lot of response... And it's been pretty much unanimously positive, too. That's good. Haha, it's pretty encouraging for me, all told. This fic, much like nearly every big fic I write, is a learning experience for me pretty much all the way through. I don't have much long term planned out in terms of plot aside from a few vague notions of what might be cool to see later on, but I've been setting up and delivering on a number of things that I've wanted to do for a while with this. Hopefully you guys can continue to enjoy it as you have been.**

**Also, with the previous chapter of this and the other fics that I updated on Monday, August 20, 2012, I managed to break 1k hits total on my fics in a single day, which is pretty darn rare for me. Also, this month RtN has breached 30k hits total, **_**period,**_** which completely blows my second and third highest-hitting stories, the old, inexplicably popular **_**Metroid Legacies**_** and the absurdly long **_**Om Nom Nom, Hamster-chan!**_**, right out of the water.**

**Pretty good for something that started out as basically a joke-fic with absolutely zero expectations.**

**Anyways, as for this chapter in specific, it's kinda longish and contains a plot twist that I doubt **_**anyone**_** saw coming. The latter focuses mostly on, well, **_**exposition,**_** basically, about the apparent identity, abilities and affiliation of the attacker, since I've seen a lot of you guys speculating about it in the reviews. I hint at certain things in here, regarding the mystery surrounding the attack, but not much is **_**explicitly**_** given away. Though I'm walking the line pretty close between keeping it mysterious and flat out making it obvious, so some of you might be able to piece a fair bit of the details together... **

* * *

Vernon Dursley was not a patient man. He was not one to endure foolishness or frivolity, and he hated being made to wait. Furthermore, he was very stubborn and had a very low opinion of "unusual sorts".

Vernon Dursley was a very mundane man. He was upper middle-management at Grunnings, an unexceptional company that made and sold drills. He was fat – there were no two ways about it – with a slowly receding hairline and a thick, bushy mustache. He was very boring, very opinionated, and very irritable.

Vernon had a nasty temper, and a very short fuse to go with it. He was like a large, red-faced powderkeg with a penchant for yelling and violence. While the man _could_ control his temper (he wouldn't have made it very far in his business if he couldn't), he saw little reason to do so where that ne'er-do-well nephew of his, or anyone like the boy, was concerned.

So it was surprising that he managed to hold his tongue as well as he did when that freakishly dressed man (who looked _far_ too old for such nonesense) who had popped into his house all of a sudden turned his attention towards Harry, completely ignoring Mr. Dursley. But he could only keep his peace for so long.

"WHAT ABOUT US?" he finally demanded angrily, interrupting the boy and the old geezer and gesturing towards his traumatized wife and his now-one-handed son. "WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO TO FIX THIS?"

The old man – Dumbledore was his name, apparently – turned around and faced him calmly.

"Well, I am afraid your son's hand can't be reattached," the eccentrically dressed wizard began solemnly as Vernon fumed. "By the time we arrived the damage was done and most of it was already dead, and, as you saw, it had to be removed just to keep the infection from spreading any further. Still, a prosthesis should not be too difficult to procure, all things considered..."

Vernon's face was red, and he spluttered angrily. Snarling and gesturing wildly, his mustache twitched furiously. He was incoherent with rage, eyes wild and wide. Huffing and puffing like a cape buffalo that was this close to charging, the man looked close to spitting fire.

"IT — HE — YOU — _RAAAGH!_" he finally bellowed ineloquently, uselessly flailing his large, meaty fists up and down in the air with all the subtlety and grace of a stampeding bull elephant. "THAT FREAK JUST WALTZED RIGHT INTO MY HOUSE!" he roared, "AND... DID... _SOMETHING_ TO US! KNOCKED US OUT! WE COULD HAVE BEEN HURT! OR _WORSE!_"

Angrily rounding on his nephew, he jabbed a sausage-like index finger into the scrawny teen's chest. "AND ALL BECAUSE OF _YOU,_ _**BOY!**_" he spat, seething as he glared down that no-good freak child.

"Hrngh..." came an annoyed grunt from the staircase, interrupting Vernon's tirade. "So _noisy_... Are you guys done shouting, yet?"

The scruffy, ginger-haired man was the first to look up, and he saw a youngish, white-haired black man who was leaning over the banister halfway up the stairwell and rolling a sucker in his mouth.

"O-oh, hello, Mr. Omoi..." said Mundungus Fletcher anxiously, appearing somewhat apprehensive about Omoi's presence. "So you're here too, then...?"

"_Un_," Omoi muttered dully. "Yeah, I am." Turning to face Dumbledore, his apparent dismissal of Fletcher causing the shifty man to visibly relax, the youthful Cloud ninja then said, "I've got everything packed and ready to go just like you asked, professor."

"Good!" Vernon snapped irritably, scowling at the young man. He was no longer shouting quite as loudly as he had been, but his voice still carried fairly far. "The sooner I can see the back of that boy, the better! He's brought us nothing but trouble, all these years!"

The young man, Omoi, blinked, looking between Dumbledore and Mr. Dursley with a strange expression on his face.

"You haven't told them?" he asked the elderly headmaster somewhat disbelievingly, annoying Vernon. "But it has to have been like twenty minutes by now..."

The blonde woman standing near the wizened teacher shrugged. "We haven't had an opportunity to bring it up yet," she said simply, speaking for both herself and Dumbledore.

"_Seriously, Samui?_" Omoi spluttered in his native tongue.

"Seriously," Samui replied coolly.

Omoi swore, not that many of the people there could understand, considering he had slipped back into Japanese. After a few seconds of cursing, during which he quickly ran through the more common expletives before dipping into some of the more creative ones he had heard from Karui, who had a mouth to put the saltiest of sea dogs to shame and could swear a blue streak a mile long without even once repeating herself, he shook his head and sighed.

"_Well, might as well get this over with..._" he muttered under his breath exasperatedly. "_...just think of it like tearing off a band-aid..._" he told himself.

Bracing himself for the response and looking the frustratedly fuming Vernon in the eye, Omoi said, "You know... The Potter kid isn't the _only_ one being relocated... It's not safe here for _any_ of you any more, either..."

And just like that, Vernon exploded and launched right into another virulent tirade.

* * *

It took a long while for Mr. Dursley to finally wind down, and even longer for them to convince him and his wife to go along with the move. Dudley Dursley on the other hand was surprisingly compliant, though that might have been because he had gone nearly catatonic after the last of the adrenaline filtered out and the shock of losing a hand finally set in.

Omoi and Samui had to admit, they were impressed with the kid. Not just any civilians could, or even _would_, put themselves in danger like Dudley had, and it was apparent that there was an uncanny character buried deep down within the boy. _Very_ deep down, beneath several layers of selfish jackass and stupid bully, but it was there nonetheless.

And they could respect that kind of resolve. Not very many people _at all_ could muster the kind of _raw __**guts**_ it took to do something like that in such a desperate situation. Really, it was just bad luck that the person there had possessed such a dangerous ability...

"_Nanosaizu no dokumushi..._" Samui murmured thoughtfully as she and Omoi rode concealed on the roof of the Dursley's family car (clinging to it with chakra in a simple application of their cliff-climbing chakra control exercises), which was following behind a moving van the services of which Dumbledore had somehow managed to procure on extremely short notice. "...the special breed of_ kikaichū_ used by that notorious Shikuro Aburame..."

Omoi frowned, his training allowing him to pick out his teammates words even above the noise of the rushing wind as the car beneath them drove on the highway to London. Dumbledore had finally managed to get Vernon to go along with the relocation by informing the man that a promotion to vice-manager of Grunnings' London office had recently gone through thanks to a bit of... _greasing the wheels of bureaucratic process_... so to speak.

"Shikuro, huh?" he said, his voice barely carrying over the wind. "Never heard of him... So is that good or bad?"

Samui sighed. "It's... _complicated_..." she muttered. "...You saw the damage to the boy's hand, right? How it was all soft and discolored, almost purple?"

Omoi nodded in the affirmative.

"Well, I've seen the effects of ordinary _kikaichū_..." Samui continued, explaining. "They sap chakra from their targets through a sort of... vacuum effect_. _They suck it right out of you without so much as breaking your skin; they can even do it through most fabrics. And if a large enough number feed on you for a long enough period of time, they can completely drain away even the chakra in the very core of your body, _killing_ you via chakra exhaustion... Individual specimens can consume a level of chakra comparable to what you would find in complex lifeforms nearly _fifteen times_ their size. For comparison's sake, that would be like a mosquito landing on your toe and sucking five fluid ounces of blood directly from your heart."

Omoi whistled.

"_Damn_," he said, "That's actually pretty scary..." He paused. "I'm surprised you know all that, though," he added offhandedly. "You're like a walking encyclopedia of _hiden_..."

"It's cool, nothing big." Samui said dismissively. "I don't know anything about it that couldn't be pieced together from autopsy reports and battlefield accounts..."

"Most people wouldn't bother with all that, though," Omoi pointed out.

Samui shrugged. "Knowledge is power. It's your own fault if you don't seek it out for yourself. But nonetheless, getting back to my original point, as you saw for yourself, the damage to the Dursley boy's hand was visible, and it looked like gangrene or frostbite. The tissue was _dead_. Normal kikaichū don't do anything like that."

Omoi frowned. "That's odd... the Aburame clan are the only insect users I know of, aside from maybe the clan of the First Tsuchikage. But the Kamizuru used _wasps_, not beetles, and they're pretty much extinct now anyways... aren't they?"

"No, it wasn't a Kamizuru," Samui assured him. "The only known surviving members were the First Tsuchikage's grandchildren, and according to the information from the Intelligence Bureau's spies, they were pretty much destroyed by some random Leaf genin cell about a year ago. No, it was definitely an Aburame technique," she explained, "just a _very rare_ one. Our village only knows of one confirmed user, and that's from the time of the Legendary Three, during the Second and Third Shinobi World Wars... Shikuro Aburame, and his Nano-Sized Venomous Insect technique."

Omoi blinked. "Only _one?_ But, that person, Shikuro or whatever, wouldn't he practically have to be an old geezer by now, if he fought in the Second War...? I didn't get a good look at the assassin before you chased him off, but I thought he looked like he was pretty young... Not much older than you or me at all."

"Yes..." said Samui slowly. "It's strange... There's a lot we don't know about this. That person was clearly very skilled, to be able to cast off my _Kanashibari no Jutsu_ so quickly. We didn't stand a chance of capturing him, it seems like..."

Omoi sighed. "A Konoha ANBU in Little Whinging with a freaky jutsu like that... I wonder... Do you suppose it could be...?"

"I really hope not," Samui answered quietly, looking out over the countryside as it sped past them. "This mission just keeps getting more and more complicated..."

**TTFN and R&R!**

* * *

_translation notes:_

_"un" - yes_

_"nanosaizu no dokumushi" - lit., nano-sized venomous insects _

_"kikaichū" - lit., parasitic destruction insects_

_"hiden" - "secret tradition"; techniques passed down through specific clans or regions, usually jealously guarded and passed down from one generation to the next exclusively through oral tradition _

_"kanashibari no jutsu" - temporary paralysis technique_

_"anbu" - _暗隊 _lit., "dark side"; short for "ansatsu senjutsu tokushu butai" (_暗殺戦術特殊部隊_), lit., special assassination and tactical squad  
_


	58. Know Your Own

**Remember the Name**

A _Naruto _x _Harry Potter_ Crossover

By

EvilFuzzy9

_"Our most basic instinct is not for survival but for family. Most of us would give our own life for the survival of a family member, yet we lead our daily life too often as if we take our family for granted."_

- Paul Pearshall

* * *

**A/N: Guh, I'd say I was sorry for not updating **_**anything at all **_**for such a long time (that's how it felt, anyways), but for once it was actually due to something **_**entirely**_** out of my hands, at least in part. See, we haven't had any internet at our place for... Christ, I don't even **_**know **_**how long it's been as of my writing this. And it's not that it was simply shut off, either – there is (or, as it will probably be by the time I post this,**_** was**_**) a serious connection problem somewhere between the broadband modem and the ISP, such that we have (/had) no internet access, **_**period**_**. This, naturally, **_**kinda **_**inhibited the posting of updates. **

**... of course, I probably **_**could**_** have just, say, gone to some place like the Warming House coffee shop (owned by the same people responsible for the Gordy's retro hamburger joint as seen in any number of Food Network TV programs or newspaper/magazine editorials) where they have free WiFi, but I was also out of my D-Amphetamine for the better part of week, **_**at least**_**, which means that I also got next to no writing done during that period (this, if you have read any amount of my current fics, you will recognize as something of a recurring problem for me). **

**It's really inconvenient that the stuff that beats down my ADHD enough for me to actually sit down and focus long enough to put word to paper (or screen, as it were) is such a freakin' controlled substance that every time I call in for a refill on my prescription (though I suppose that's a bit misleading, seeing as how the bottle says, as plain as day, **_**NO REFILLS**_**), the pharmacy first needs to get the explicit go-ahead from my doctor before they can actually **_**fill it**_**. And of course even **_**then **_**the copay is a slightly ridiculous amount in the neighborhood of $250. Which really puts a hurting on your bank account when that's just a little less than what you get from good paycheck at your job, the bottle only has enough capsules to last you thirty days, and you also have to keep enough money in your checking account for automatic monthly payments of $150 every tenth of the month (which sounded doable enough at the time) towards the debt incurred by just a **_**single semester**_** of ****community college.**

**But hey, you guys aren't here to read about money troubles (unless they're the money troubles of the Weasley clan or Hayate Ayasaki and his little friends), so let's just get on with the show already, **_**eh wot?**_

* * *

Harry awkwardly shuffled his feet as he followed Dumbledore inside the building that had suddenly appeared out of thin air. Under other circumstances, he might have been more fascinated with how the large house seemed to materialize out of nothingness, even with his increasing amount of experience with the magical world, but as it was his mind was a mite preoccupied.

His head was still reeling from everything that had happened, and he was still a bit disoriented from that... _dream? vision?_ He didn't know. He was dazed and befuddled, feeling as though he were in a waking dream.

The crash from the earlier adrenaline rushes had left him profoundly exhausted, and even the sizable hunk of chocolate provided to him by the headmaster did little to perk him back up (though it _did_ nullify the aftereffects of the dementor attack). Slight, nearly unnoticeable tremors shook his hands as he absentmindedly grabbed the doorknob and shut the door behind him.

Harry was barely aware of what he was doing as he continued to walk forward. Dully, he heard Dumbledore whisper something ahead of him, but his mind didn't really register the specific words.

Feeling completely drained, Harry followed the headmaster down the hall. It took a great amount of effort just to put one foot in front of the other, his combat fatigued state not having been helped any by the new and unpleasant sensation of sidealong apparation, but Harry trudged onward.

Eventually they reached a set of stairs leading down into the basement, which they descended. Passing through a door at the foot of the stairs, they entered into a sizable kitchen at the center of which was a long wooden table crowded with several people.

"_Harry!_" he heard a familiar voice cry, before being nearly plowed into the ground by a bushy-haired ballistic missile.

"Ah," he said weakly, regaining his balance as he felt his ribs being compressed in an extremely tight hug. "Hi, Hermione."

"Don't forget about me, Harry!" he heard another voice declare, this one male.

He felt a hand clap sharply onto his shoulder and saw a shock of orange-ish red in the corner of his eye. A long arm wrapped around his neck, and, turning his head, the first thing Harry noticed was a long, freckly nose, followed by speckled cheeks and a mop of fiery hair.

"Blimey, but it's good to see you again!" Ron declared, leaning on his best mate and beaming.

Harry felt himself grin in response, his mood lifting. Brightening up, he said, "Same here, Ron."

* * *

Meanwhile, as Harry was getting reacquainted with his friends, his aunt, uncle, and cousin were traveling through the English countryside, still a fair while away from reaching London.

Vernon Dursley was scowling as he glared at the long road before him. His meaty, sausage-like fingers were clenched around the steering wheel, knuckles white, and his teeth were gritted as he muttered darkly under his breath.

"I don't trust them..." the beefy man grumbled, his mustache twitching. "...not one bit... no-good misfits and troublemakers, if you ask me... should just corral them all up and put 'em out to sea... think they're so much better than us... never done anything for _me_..."

Petunia Dursley, meanwhile, was ashen faced. Her mouth was slack, and her cheeks bone-white as she stared silently straight ahead, eyes glassy. The woman was clearly in shock and having considerable difficulty processing all that had happened to her family in such a short interval of time.

It was ironic, Petunia thought numbly, her mind a bit cloudy from the small bottle of "anxiety medicine" that was currently sitting in her pocket, that she, who had spent so much of her life doing everything she could to distance herself from Lily and the sort of people her sister had consorted with, should now find herself and her family caught up in of some sort of... of... _war_... between those... those... _those_. And yet there they were all the same, the three of them riding to London in the family car and trying to ignore the fact that they had two other passengers hiding on the roof.

Dudley, for his part, was pensive as he absentmindedly fiddled with the bandages covering the stump where his hand used to be. He appeared to be lost in thought, a faraway look in his eyes which were sort of aimed downwards at his lap, which before he had started taking boxing lessons at Smeltings would have been obscured by a flabby, protruding gut. But now, while he was still undeniably hefty, Dudley was built less like a ball and more like a wall, with a modest layer of muscle beneath what remained of his flab.

Weakly making a short punching movement with his stump, Dudley Dursley found himself wondering whether he would be able to continue boxing. He knew that the weird old man had said something about getting him a prosthetic hand, but he had no point of reference for what sort of prosthetics Harry's sort used. Did they have some sort of hokum-pokum that would conjure him up a new arm, or did they have to do it the normal way?

Even just a few hours ago, Dudley never would have bothered with wondering about that sort of thing. He'd never been particularly curious about magic, having generally taken his father's mutterings about hat-tricks and hoodoo at face value, especially when you took into account what most of his firsthand experiences with it before that evening. Getting a pig's tail grown out of his backside, seeing a pudding dropped from mid-air, watching his aunt get inflated like a balloon, and getting his tongue swollen up to a ridiculous size d not exactly given him any reason to think of magic as anything but parlor tricks and pranks.

Now, though... he had to admit that his opinion of magic had been raised a few notches after that day's events. Dudley didn't know much about what exactly had happened after he'd provoked Harry into pulling a wand on him, but he could remember the chilling cold and the impenetrable darkness... According to that Bumble-bore geezer, _that_ had been caused by something called "dementoids", which were apparently supposed to be guards at some sort of wizard prison but were now working for some Moldy-fart jerk (or something like that, anyways; he hadn't really been paying very much attention at the time). And Harry had apparently used some sort of spell to chase off those dementoid thingies, indirectly saving his life and soul.

Of course, Dudley had also saved Harry by grabbing that masked weirdo's arm back at Number Four and knocking their hand away before they could grab Harry's throat. At the time it hadn't been about returning the favor, though – at the time, he hadn't even known there'd been a favor to return in the first place. No, when he'd come to on the living room floor of his home (his old home, now) and seen someone looking like they were aiming to strangle Harry, the only thing going through his mind was the fierce, primal urge to protect his own.

It was an odd notion for him. Harry had never been his _anything_, except maybe _punching bag_. He'd almost never thought of Harry in direct relation to himself – "that boy who lives in our house", "that kid mum and dad can't stand", "that twerp I kick around when I'm bored" – and _never_ had he felt any closeness toward the other boy. Harry hadn't been anything important to him – just an unfortunate fixture in his life, like an ugly stepstool that you keep in the attic because it clashes with all the other furniture and can't just be thrown away because it's an heirloom. Hell, until he'd entered primary school, Dudley had never even realized that Harry was _his cousin_, that was just how distant he'd been from the other boy.

Not once could Dudley recall ever seeing Harry for Harry, of thinking of him as _family_ in anything but the absolute **loosest** sense of the word. And yet, when it came right down to it, when he looked the very real prospect of the other boy being straight out killed right in the face, it seemed that not all of Dudley could disregard so easily that Harry potter was _kin, _with blood as his mother, the same blood as _him_. They'd grown up in the same house, raised by the same people. Even if they had never seen eye to eye, or even liked each other at all, they could not defy their instincts. Even if neither he or Harry would ever admit, the two of them were _family,_ on some primal level.

Dudley didn't know if the same held true for his parents, but that was apparently the way it was for him. It was funny how those things worked, though.

"People are like dogs," wasn't that what Aunt Marge would always say? "Just like dogs have their packs, people have their families... and even the meanest runts know that what's good for the pack is good for the dog. Nothing's more important to a good dog than its pack, and the same goes for any decent person."

Of course, the hefty woman usually said that as a shot at Harry, but Dudley figured it applied here as well.

**TTFN and R&R!**

* * *

_translation notes:_

_none_

* * *

**A/N: How many of you are fans of RPing?**

**Okay, now how many of are fans of _Hayate the Combat Butler_ (_Hayate no Gotoku_)?  
**

**... or at least know what it is...?  
**

**... Well, that's good enough for me, I guess...**

**SO! If there are any of y'all who RPing and/or _Hayate the Combat Butler_, feel free to head on to the _Hayate RP!_ forum in the _Hayate the Combat Butler _section. Auditions are open for characters now!  
**

**(And no, this is actually not a self-plug, since the forum is actually owned and moderated by one bluemagesfairytail. I'm just promoting it because an RP forum with only two active people isn't as fun as one with three or four or even more participants. The more the merrier, don'tcha know!)  
**


	59. Forgiveness is Harder to Give

**Remember the Name**

A _Naruto _x _Harry Potter_ Crossover

By

EvilFuzzy9

_"There is nothing more galling to angry people than the coolness of those on whom they wish to vent their spleen."_

- Alexandre Dumas

* * *

**A/N: The previous chapter was sorta fun to write, if only because it explored Dudley's motivations and such a little bit, but this one... well, let's just say that while I'm not averse to writing angst, I am not very fond of doing angry teens, personally. But on the other hand I also ended up with some slightly gratuitous RonxHermione back-and-forth (which seriously creeps out Harry, apparently), so I suppose it balances out.**

**Also: "So I hope you don't mind sleeping on hardwood." _Heheheh_, oh jeez, my sense of humor is just so friggin' juvenile sometimes XD**

* * *

In Ron's room (well, Ron and _Harry's, _now) on the second floor of 12 Grimmauld Place, Harry was lying on his new bed, fuming. His arms were crossed over his chest, and he was glaring uselessly at the cracked and cobwebbed ceiling.

His two friends, _to whom he wasn't currently talking_, were seated side by side on Ron's bed on the opposite side of the room, looking concerned yet chastised as they kept shooting their astonishingly angry friend worried looks. The atmosphere was heavy in the drab, messy room, the air so thick with tension that you could have cut it with a _diffindo_.

Harry was not a happy camper, even despite now being in the headquarters of the people who were leading the fight against the Dark Lord. At first he had been ecstatic to see his friends, after all the crap that had happened, but his mood had quickly soured. After greeting Ron and Hermione and doing a bit of short catching up with, things had seemed to be going well for a while as the two told Harry about everything that had been happening.

But that had changed soon enough. As Ron and Hermione told Harry about the Order, and the members they had met, and what they themselves had been doing so far that summer, Harry had found his mood growing darker and darker, until he had finally blown up at them in a fit of teenage angst. He was angry with them for not including him, not telling him anything about what was going on.

The bitterness Harry was feeling in his gut was a truly ugly thing, like some kind of monstrous, thorny weed that was snaking its tendrils throughout his abdomen and slowly strangling everything within reach. It was something he recognized from his years living with the Dursleys – jealousy, resentment, _anger_. It was a horrible thing, making him feel like he was dying from the inside out, and all because his _so-called friends_ had left him out of the loop.

So he was busy sulking and ignoring the other two, who were visibly uncomfortable with this situation. They had tried explaining things a few times, but Harry wasn't in the mood to hear them out at the moment. He outright _refused_ to listen to their excuses.

So Ron and Hermione were stuck with a moody, sulking Harry, with not the slightest clue as to what they should do about it.

_Vexing._

"Harry..." Hermione murmured, her voice barely audible above the deafening silence. "We're _sorry,_ we really are, but there wasn't anything we could do..."

"_Hmph_," Harry grunted peevishly, turning onto his side so that his back was to the two.

Hermione huffed impatiently at this.

"Oh, _honestly!_" she groaned exasperatedly, shaking her head. "Sometimes you are just _so hard-headed._ I know you're upset, but you shouldn't just take it out on me and Ron like that."

Harry didn't say anything in response to this. He was ignoring her, it seemed.

Ron shook his head with a weary sigh.

"He's not listening," he muttered tiredly, before yawning hard enough to nearly crack his jaw. "So I dunno about you, Hermione, but I'm all for hitting the hay and working things out in the morning. Who knows, maybe Harry will be in a better mood after a some shut-eye."

"You just want to go to sleep because you were up all night playing Wizard's Chess."

Ron yawned again, nodding slowly.

"Well, I'm glad we agree," said he, flopping down on his side and rolling up under the covers. "G'night, 'Mione."

Hermione scowled, poking the sleepy redhead on the forehead.

"We agreed on nothing," she said, smacking Ron on the shoulder. "So get back up and help me get through to Harry, you lazy arse."

"Dun' wanna," Ron mumbled, rolling over to try and push Hermione off his bed. He did not succeed, however, and Hermione simply redoubled her efforts to get him back up.

"Come _on_, Ronald!" Hermione grunted as she tried to pull the covers off of Ron. "I am _not_ going to leave things like this, our first day seeing Harry all summer!"

Ron, for his part, was so tightly swaddled in his blanket that he might as well have been in a cocoon, and he held onto it with an iron grip learned from growing up with brothers like Fred and George and a sister like Ginny, so Hermione's efforts were to no avail.

"Could you shut off the lamp when you leave?" he asked Hermione when she finally gave up on yanking his blanket off of him.

"No," said Hermione tersely. "I am not leaving this room until you get out of that bed and do something about Harry."

"Well, I don't care what Mum says about being a gentleman, I'm not sleeping on the floor," Ron said bluntly. "So I hope you don't mind sleeping on hardwood."

Hermione, cheeks pink as she fought back giggles at the inappropriate mental image conjured by Ron's words, cleared her throat awkwardly before saying, "_No one_ is going to be sleeping on the floor, Ron."

"Well, I don't think Harry's too keen on sharing his bed right now," Ron mumbled sleepily, "but I _guess_ I could let you sleep with me, if you really insist." There was no mischief betrayed in his tone, but the smirk on his face said enough.

"_Pig,_" Hermione snorted, smacking Ron on the knee. There was no heat behind the word, though, and a small grin adorned her face.

From the other side of the room came a soft gagging sound.

"Okay, okay..." Harry said weakly, his cheeks pink but the rest of his face a bit pale as he sat up in his bed and turned to face the pair, "Stop, please... I'm sorry for yelling at you guys like that, just... please, stop that. It's _weird._"

Hermione, suddenly realizing how her and Ron's banter must have been coming across, squeaked, her face glowing bright red.

"...it's not what it sound like, honest."

**TTFN and R&R!**

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_translation notes:_

_none_


	60. Pettyunia and Vernomous Dursley

**Remember the Name**

A _Naruto _x _Harry Potter_ Crossover

By

EvilFuzzy9

_"Put out the welcome mat, and brew up some iced tea. Shit is about to get _neighborly_."_

- Solifuge, Bay12 forums

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**A/N: Ayaya, I've gotten re-addicted to Dwarf Fortress... It's been ages since I've seriously played it, but I read a couple of LPs and they got me in the mood for the game. I imagine this will take up at least a bit of my writing time...**

**Also, Vernon Dursley is becoming a surprisingly fun character to write, though he's also pretty difficult to balance. We never really see much of him in the main series, and he never gets really fleshed out, but there's something about his belligerence and narrow-mindedness that occasionally just make him so peculiarly delightful to write. I guess there's just something about writing petty assholes that really appeals to me.**

**Also, also, I posted a second chapter to _Damnation Memoria_ a couple days ago that relates somewhat slightly to this chapter. **

* * *

Breakfast the following morning was an incredibly awkward affair, in large part due to the arrival of the Dursleys, who were escorted inside by Omoi and Samui.

It had taken most of the night for the family of three to drive up to London, and a good share of the early morning was spent searching for the correct neighborhood. Thus, by the time they arrived at the headquarters of the Order, Vernon, Petunia, and Dudley were all quite tired and fairly irritable as well. Naturally, neither Vernon or Petunia were at all happy with these circumstances, and they were not hesitant to voice their distaste for the wizards and their choice of hideouts.

Petunia in particular was quite horrified by the morbid decor of the entryway, nearly fainting at the sight of the house elf heads nailed to wall, and it did not help matters for her that the place was _filthy_ compared to her home, which she kept almost unnaturally immaculate. Nearly everything was coated with a thin layer of dust, and she noticed a considerable buildup of grime in the small nooks and crannies. The umbrella stand was also just _hideous_.

Honestly, Number Twelve Grimmauld Place was simply offensive to Petunia's sensibilities as a housewife and homemaker, which in her opinion only justified her beliefs regarding _those sorts_.

"Ugh..._ Filthy_..." she muttered distastefully. "You'd think they could at least_ try _to make this place look presentable..."

Unfortunately – or maybe fortunately – Petunia's words were overheard by one Molly Weasley, who had come up from the basement to see what all the commotion was about.

"Well, it's the best we could do on such short notice, you understand," Molly said a little too sweetly, smiling a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "But the house was in an even worse state when we first got here, and there are only so many hands available to help with the cleaning. I'm sure you can understand what that's like," she said politely.

The temperature in the hallway seemed to drop precipitously as Molly spoke, and Dudley cautiously was hanging back several paces away from the confrontation.

"I'm sure I have no idea what you're talking about," the horse-faced Petunia sniffed imperiously, casting a pointed gaze at the hall around her. "...but I suppose I can understand if something like that is simply _too much_ for you."

Omoi gulped nervously and scooted a few feet away from Petunia and her husband. _'Scaaaary... That isn't something I wanna be caught in the middle of.'_

Meanwhile, a short ways away, at the bottom of the stairwell that led up to the second and third floors, Ron and Hermione watched the proceedings with identical gobsmacked expressions while Harry did his best impression of a deer caught in the headlights.

"She didn't_..._" Ron whispered disbelievingly, looking at Harry's aunt with a mixture of shock and horror.

"She couldn't have..." Hermione murmured likewise.

"She _did_," Harry sighed miserably, knowing all too well what his aunt was like.

Ron shuddered.

"... Let's go get breakfast," he suggested, visibly anxious. He turned to head down to the kitchen, which just so conveniently happened to be in the exact opposite direction of the showdown that was unfolding in the entry corridor.

* * *

Unfortunately for any hopes the trio might have had of a peaceful repast, the Dursleys were led into the kitchen by their escorts a few minutes later. Omoi and Samui were taking Vernon's gruffness and Petunia's pettiness in unbroken stride, showing their skill with dealing with difficult people.

"Here we are," Samui said coolly, guiding the Dursley trio through the kitchen door. "This is where you'll probably be eating for most of your time here."

She gestured around the room, the walls of which were lined with cabinets and cupboards. There were also a stove and oven, a couple of antique-looking sinks, and a sizable icebox in the far end of the room. Near the middle of the kitchen, there was long, rectangular, bare-topped table.

Petunia tutted disapprovingly at the apparently outdated facilities, a not so subtle look of smug superiority on her face as she no doubt mentally compared this kitchen with the one back at Number Four Privet Drive. Vernon scowled as he beheld the eclectic assembly of witches and wizards gathered around the table – in particular, he seemed to zone in on Bill Weasley, who with his long hair and earring looked the very definition of what the beefy man considered "no good punks". Dudley, in contrast, saw Bill and immediately thought "_Coooool._"

The eggs in Harry's mouth suddenly tasted like ash on his tongue as he saw his aunt and uncle enter the kitchen. They were preceded by the two somewhat curiously dressed strangers and shortly followed by his cousin and, lastly, Molly Weasley, who was giving the backs of Petunia and Vernon's heads an unpleasant, icy look.

Inwardly, the green-eyed teen groaned miserably. He did _not_ want to deal with this. And, apparently, neither did Vernon.

"Yes, _well_," he huffed impatiently, scowling at the sight of his no good nephew, "If you'd just show us where we'll be sleeping, now – we would've gotten here much faster if you hadn't made drive all over the back roads, you know, with plenty of time to get settled in," he grumbled.

Samui waved off his remarks, and Omoi took the sucker out his mouth.

"For all we knew you could have been followed," the latter said plainly, nervously twiddling the stick of his sucker between his fingers. "If you came straight here, who knows who might have been able to follow you... Even if they can't find the building itself, they could still figure out a general location. And in that case, there'd be nothing to stop them from doing something like, say, blowing the whole block sky high."

Fixing Vernon with a calm stare, Omoi finished with a cool, "Get it?"

The large Dursley patriarch simply snorted indignantly and proceeded to rudely ignore the young man.

Omoi sighed at Vernon's stubbornness, shaking his head in bemused exasperation.

"Anyways," Samui interjected suddenly, breaking the awkward silence that had fallen over the kitchen with everyone turning their attention to the newcomers. "In answer to your original question: No. Your presence has been specifically requested for a meeting, of sorts, with the head of the Order of the Phoenix," she told the Dursley patriarch, who immediately asked the obvious question.

"What in blue blazes is the Order of the Phoenix?"

**TTFN and R&R!**

* * *

_translation notes:_

_none_


	61. Konossazir

**Remember the Name**

A _Naruto _x _Harry Potter_ Crossover

By

EvilFuzzy9

_"The economy isn't like a big truck. It's more like a series of rubes."_

- Dorf3000, Bay12 forums

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**A/N: This chapter took ages to get finished, even with how short it is. And that is mostly because I've been caught once more in the clutches of Dwarf Fortress, which has been voraciously devouring the lion's share of my free time. On the bright side, my latest fort "Brassbridges" has been quite prosperous, even with periodic goblin sieges and the occasional necromancer attack... I even actually wrote a short _Hayate the Combat Butler _oneshot about DF just to give a quick heads up about my time being sapped by it, haha.**

* * *

Time passed all too slowly, as far as the people present were concerned. The clicking and clacking of silverware on plates was the only sound in the kitchen of Number Four Grimmauld Place as the nightly fast was broken with a hot and hearty meal. There was no conversation, all attempts at starting a discourse having fallen flat to sullen silence.

The atmosphere was indescribably tense. Between Harry and his relatives – _particularly_ him and his uncle – there was enough irritability in the room to cause a rash, and even the most socially dense could read the atmosphere. A bad mood spreads like a cold, and this was naturally discouraging to the other parties present, and soon there was no talking whatsoever, not even so much as whispered plans of mischief or business between Fred and George.

Harry was not comfortable. While he was not afraid of Vernon, per se, it was still difficult for him to relax while in the same room as the man. Even if Vernon and his family were now under the protection of the Order of the Phoenix the same as Harry, it was not a simple thing for either party to just set aside so many years of mutual ill will. Harry and Vernon had never gotten along before, despite living in the same house for nigh on fifteen years, and a simple change of scenery was not likely to make any difference on that front.

As a matter of fact, the impromptu move to Grimmauld Place would probably only make things worse. Not only were Vernon and his family removed from the comfort of their home, but they would also now be living in close quarters with the Weasleys and other wizards. And when Harry thought about how things had gone every other time the Dursleys had come in contact with the magical world, he realized that even Trelawney would be able to predict the inevitable outcome of this.

All of this... it could not _possibly_ end well.

* * *

"_Yare yare..._" Omoi sighed, mumbling under his breath as he looked around the table. "_This feels like a really bad situation... Nobody is talking, and it feels so gloomy... This tension is unbearable._"

Samui, sitting next to him, swallowed a small mouthful of scrambled eggs.

"_It's not so bad,_" she replied under her breath. "_We've seen worse. Don't you remember that one mission we had, where the daughter of that daimyō kept trying to proposition you, and the captain of the guard wound up finding the two of you in that compromising position?_"

Omoi shuddered. "_Ah, geez. Don't remind me..._" he groaned. "_I seriously thought I was gonna die, that time... I was SO glad when that misunderstanding finally got cleared up, you have no idea._"

"_Perhaps,_" Samui murmured, a ghost of a smirk on her face,"_but then she WAS pretty cute, wasn't she?_"

Omoi glared at her.

"_She was TWELVE._"

"_And endearingly precocious._"

"_There's nothing endearing about a kid acting like that..._" Omoi muttered."_...creepy-ass masegaki..._"

Samui shrugged.

"_Well,_ _I thought it was cute,_" she said.

"_... you've got one messed up sense of 'cute',_" Omoi muttered disbelievingly.

**TTFN and R&R!**

* * *

_translation notes:_

"_yare yare" - an expression of mild frustration or exasperation, unless I'm mistaken_

"_masegaki" - a child who acts more like an adult, in some ways_


	62. Times of Trial

**Remember the Name**

A _Naruto _x _Harry Potter_ Crossover

By

EvilFuzzy9

_"__I know God will not give me anything I can't handle. I just wish that He didn't trust me so much__ ."_

- Mother Teresa

* * *

**A/N: Dwarf Fortress eats my time. **

**That's the excuse I want to make, but in reality it hasn't been taking up _that_ much of my time. Rather, I was out of medication for a few days, and also... ah, I suppose you could say that, well, I sorta got shanghaied into working on something somewhere else... hypothetically speaking. **

**Also, I've recent started watching the anime _Gintama._ It's pretty funny – I think my favorite character is Kagura, though Gintoki Sakata is a close second. And the latter actually makes me think of Omoi a little bit... or rather, Omoi makes me think somewhat of Gintoki. **

**As for this chapter, well... I wanted to start hurrying the storyline along, at least get them to Hogwarts within a reasonable timeframe, so I did a bit of a timeskip. Also, I've read a few fics that covered Harry's trial, and it's been done in all sorts of ways by writers both better and worse than myself. So I decided to go at it from a different perspective.**

* * *

Omoi yawned, covering his mouth with one hand and raising the other arm above his head. He then shook his head in an attempt to wake himself. His eyes were half-lidded and baggy, lids drooping.

One of the passing ministry workers tutted as they walked past him. Omoi was too drowsy to tell if it was a man or a woman who did it, but he waved a hand dismissively either way. He was dressed not in his shinobi uniform today, but in formal robes. They were a bit uncomfortable for him, as he was unused to the manner of dress employed by wizards – while outwardly they bore a superficial resemblance to a kimono or ceremonial garb of the elemental nations, the way they were put on and worn was different enough to make him feel awkward.

At the very least, they were difficult to run and jump in, which would have put him on edge if he were any less tired.

"It's too early..." the white haired young Cloud nin muttered under his breath, glancing to his left and his right down the stone hall, which seemed to extend to extend a fair distance in either direction. The stick of a lollipop was protruding from his mouth – it was blueberry flavored.

Not his favorite, but good nonetheless. And anyways, he wasn't sucking on it for the taste – it was because he needed some sugar in his blood. He'd been up nearly all of last night, pulling a double-shift watching over the door to the Department of Mysteries, and he'd hardly gotten any sleep. And the other Order members were also being similarly overworked.

While the ranks of the Order of the Phoenix had swollen a modest amount, thanks in part to one Horace Slughorn sending out feelers for potential allies among former students of his, there was nonetheless a sense of dread hanging in the air. For one thing, they never managed to find out anything else about the agent who had attacked Harry at Privet Drive, or anything about why those "dementors" had been there, either. For another, a number of important, high ranking officials in the Ministry of Magic had been going missing or experiencing "unfortunate accidents".

More than a few had been found dead, or worse, after being missing for weeks. And while Fudge was leaning on the Daily Prophet to not report anything too troubling, he could not completely hide what was going on. Things were tense, and those in the know were nervous.

And what was especially worrying was the fact that those "incidents" seemed to be entirely indiscriminate – the victims included known Death Eaters and Order members, people who sympathized with one or the other, and even people who were completely uninvolved or otherwise neutral. This implied that there would be more than just two sides to the coming conflict, and that was troubling news – while Omoi, for one, did not particularly care if Death Eaters were being taken out, the fact that allies and neutral parties were also being targeted meant that this third party very likely had their own separate agenda.

And actually, now that he thought about it, Omoi recalled that there had been a bit of an uproar a short while after Harry and his relatives had been transferred to Grimmauld Place. Apparently, a particularly infamous, high ranking Death Eater had been assassinated around the same time as the attack on Harry – one Lucius Malfoy, a particularly wealthy "philanthropist" and pureblood supremacist had been found dead in his study, hanging from a noose. According to official auror records, the death had been ruled a suicide, but the circumstances were obviously suspicious, even to the most average layperson.

Naturally, a good deal of suspicion had fallen on the widow, Narcissa Malfoy nee Black, who had been the primary benefactor of the Malfoy's will. There was no real evidence to support that, though, and so that theory was relegated to cheap, gossip-mongering publications – like the Daily Prophet.

Eventually, though, the widow and her son – who was apparently an acquaintance of Harry and his friends – fell off the radar after a while, and media turned its attention to fresher, newer scandals. There was a bit of worry among the order members about the two turning up at the headquarters – as Blacks by blood, they were automatically keyed into most of the house's oldest and strongest wards, and since she place was her childhood home, there was nothing the Fidelius Charm could do to keep her from turning up if she felt like going back to her roots. They had actually briefly moved the headquarters for about a week, just in case, but there had not been any sign of her, and so they eventually moved back in.

So, yeah, a lot had happened in the past few weeks, and Omoi was running largely on fumes (and sugar).

Omoi yawned again and glanced at the door across from him. It was a rather imposing portal, somewhat plain but still ominous, and from the brief glimpses he'd had of the room within, Omoi could not help but feel sympathetic towards Harry's plight. The charges were largely bunk – Samui and that Hermione girl had done a good deal of reading up on the relevant laws, and the boy had been perfectly within his rights to do what he did, but he got the feeling that the court would not be so quick to agree with them...

Omoi sighed, impatiently tapping his foot on the floor in an attempt to keep himself from drifting off into sleep. How long was this going to take, anyway? Harry had to have been in there for at least twenty minutes now, but there was still no sign of the hearing ending soon.

"Gaah..." he groaned, swallowing a yawn and shaking his head. "What a pain... How much longer is this gonna take? My blood sugar's gonna drop into the red at this rate..."

"You should cut back on the candy, then, Omoi," came the cool, calm voice of Samui, one of his teammates.

"Ah," Omoi said, looking over to see Samui leaning against the wall next to him, dressed in witch's robes. "I was wondering where you'd gotten to."

"I was just checking out the area," Samui said dismissively, rubbing her shoulder. She also looked tired, though she had used a light application of makeup to cover up the worst of it.

"Is that so..." Omoi murmured. "Well, did you hear anything interesting while you were out?"

"I could ask you the same," she said, before answering his question with, "...and no, I didn't."

Omoi yawned. "I see. Bummer."

"Yes. And you?" Samui asked him.

"Not a peep. They've been in there the whole time."

"Really? _Tch_. How uncool."

"I know, right? You'd think they'd get just get it over with already. He's just a minor, after all. Not like they can give any serious punishment."

Samui gave him a Look.

"_Aho,_" she dryly remarked in their native tongue. "It's precisely _because_ he's a minor that they're having this trial. Didn't you pay _any_ attention?"

"Eheheh, not really, no," Omoi confessed sheepishly.

Samui sighed. "You're hopeless, sometimes, you know that?"

"Yeah..." Omoi said, smiling contritely. "I know."

Then the door opened, and the two fell silent. A semi-chaotic, but strangely orderly procession of venerable yet garishly clad witches and wizards streaming through. A number of them looked displeased or put out, and there was very little small talk among them. There were a few who looked cheerful, though, and others had blank or neutral expressions on their faces.

Among the last to emerge were Dumbledore and Harry. The former looked about the same as always, if a bit more weary than usual, but the outcome of the trial was obvious from the teen's expression.

Omoi smiled. "Ahhh... That's good," he said happily, getting a curious look from Harry. "It's nice to see things going right for a change, don't you think so?"

Harry smiled after a moment.

"Yeah..." he said. "It looked bad for a while there, but somehow things turned out for the best."

"Well, let's go tell the others the good news," Samui remarked, moving to follow after Dumbledore. "I'm sure they'll be happy to hear," she added, noting Arthur's approach from down the hall.

**TTFN and R&R!**

* * *

_translation notes:_

"_aho" - idiot, fool_


	63. Students May Think They Have it Tough

**Remember the Name**

A _Naruto _x _Harry Potter_ Crossover

By

EvilFuzzy9

_"How many legs does a dog have if you call the tail a leg? Four. Calling a tail a leg doesn't make it a leg."_

- Abraham Lincoln

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**A/N: Another chapter, another time skip. **

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Time passes like a flowing river. It never stops, proceeding ever onwards towards a distant, unseen end. Aeons may pass without note, in the grand scheme of the Universe, but on a certain blue planet, orbiting a certain star in the Milky Way, even mere days can bring about great changes.

Number Twelve Grimmauld Place was a flurry of activity, the first of September. Harry, Hermione, and the Weasleys were all rushing to get any last minute packing done before leaving for King's Cross Station where they would catch the Hogwarts Express. And from there they would ride on to Hogwarts, _the_ school to go to for an education in witchcraft and wizardry, one of the very best in the world, in the humble opinions of its numerous alumni, and certainly the best in all of Great Britain.

Most of the students getting ready to go back for another year of learning and adventure were some combination of anxious or excited, and Harry and his friends were no exception.

At the school itself however, things were much more sedate as the school's faculty finished mentally girding themselves for another year and relaxed, many of them doing their best to enjoy their last day of vacation before the students arrived. While there was still some arranging of schedules and fine-tuning of lesson plans going on, most of the more seasoned teachers knew that there was only so much you could do to prepare. Even the most rigidly structured curriculum could fall apart once the chaotic, unpredictable variable known as "students" was introduced. No plan survived unchanged for long on the field of battle.

And indeed, the mood in the air _was_ rather like the teachers were preparing for war, Karui noted. While there was certainly a good bit of cheer and joviality from certain quarters (Professor Flitwick being a notable offender in that regard), almost everybody seemed very subdued.

_Almost_ everybody.

"High Inquisitor, _indeed!_ Pah!" harrumphed the normally chary, slightly heavyset witch Pomona Sprout, sharply slamming a copy of the _Daily Prophet _down on the staff table in the Great Hall. "In all the years I've been here, I've never heard of such a ridiculous thing!" she declared, glaring at the paper like she was trying to set it on fire with the power of her disdain. "And _that_ woman, of all people? Hmph! I don't know what the board of governors was thinking, letting the Minister appoint _her_."

Madam Rolana Hooch, the flight instructor and official referee for Hogwarts quidditch matches, snorted.

"They didn't really have a choice, from what I heard," the athletic woman muttered. "Half of them were only just appointed, you know? People have been disappearing more and more frequently, most of them old, influential politicians. The Prophet doesn't really talk about it, but almost everybody has a friend or relative who's been Disappeared. Everyone's too afraid to make a scene, afraid of being the next ones targeted."

The Astronomy professor, Aurora Sinistra, shook her head.

"What's the world coming to?" she moaned. "Even the Head Auror's gone missing, but the bigwigs in the ministry are all too busy scrambling for more power to bother doing anything about it."

"What? Surely, you don't mean _Amelia!_" Sprout exclaimed, a look of shock on her face.

Sinistra nodded grimly, staring into her tea. "Unfortunately so. I've a friend who works as a clerk in the DMLE, he tells me no one's seen Bones since the day after that hearing."

Hooch scowled. "Which hearing?" she asked.

Sinistra waved one of her hands. "The only one anybody's been talking about for the past week of course: Harry Potter's misuse of magic hearing."

Karui's ears perked up at this, and she tuned in more closely from where she was sitting near the end of the table with a lukewarm, mostly-full cuppa – she wasn't one for tea, usually, but it helped her stay focused after a long, boring night of sifting through metaphorically motheaten wards, so she endured the taste.

"Oh, _that_ hearing..." Madam Hooch muttered, clearly annoyed. "Pfeh. I've heard people saying everything from how it was only right the boy got off, to how the trial had obviously been a sham and that they should've snapped his wand right then and there."

"Mm," Sprout hummed, "Yes, well I only hope you're mistaken about Amelia, Aurora. It'd be a shame to lose a fine witch like her, on top of everything else."

Sinistra sighed.

"I hope I am, too..." she said, "but..." A deeply morose look crossed her face, and her eyes fell. "It really is so much like last time, isn't it...? When You-Know-Who was alive, I mean."

"Well, you heard what Dumbledore said at the farewell feast last year the same as the rest of us did, Aurora, dear," said Madam Hooch grimly.

Sinistra shivered, even though it was still quite warm, and her face paled a shade.

"Yes, yes I did..." she murmured. "And I remember it well. But I only hope... just this once... that the headmaster is wrong."

"Yes, don't we all..." whispered a somber McGonagall, passing by the trio on the way to her usual seat at the table.

* * *

Down by the lake, the mood was just a little bit brighter as Hagrid introduced his new assistant to the various creatures he would be working with over the course of the years.

"Okay, now these 'ere are thestrals," Hagrid said, gesturing towards the small flock (herd?) of skeletal, winged, horse-like creatures that were emerging from the forest, enticed out from cover by the scent of rotting meat. "They've got summat of a bad reputation wit' most folks, on account o' the fact tha' only folks who've seen death can see 'em, but they're pretty much harmless."

He then walked forward and started stroking one of the thestrals on the head as it scarfed down a sizable chunk of foul meat. It seemed to like what Hagrid was doing, at least a little, or at least it was unbothered.

"They can take care o' themselves, o' course," Hagrid added after a few moments of patting and scratching various thestrals. "And there ain't many things in the forest that'd willingly tangle wit' one o' these fellas, but then tha's jes' 'cause they're never alone. Thestrals are social critters, yeh see. They never wander far from the herd."

He then paused.

"Well, accordin' ter books, the technical term fer it is a 'murder', but that doesn' really do anythin' good fer their reputation, now does it?" he asked rhetorically, before saying. "Well, o' course not. And it's a damn shame folk 're so superstitious and distrustful of 'em. Thestrals are amazin' critters, and bloody useful, too. They're strong as oxes, an' don' eat half as much... o' course, meat's more expensive than hay or corn, but then they don't need to be led, neither. They got keen focus and long memories, an' they can take yeh ter near any destination wit' a simple command, even if they've never been there themselves. 'S'what makes 'em great for pullin' the students carriages."

Hagrid was silent again for another moment, before adding, in a bit lower tone of voice, "...make lot less of a mess 'n any ox or mule, too. Don' leave great big heaps o' dung everywhere they go, fer one thing."

His new assistant nodded slowly, showing he understood. Stepping forward, he laid a hand on the muzzle of a nearby thestral.

He grinned.

"Look at you buddy, you're a real scary guy... But then I never did see a horse that could fly," Killer Bee rapped as he petted the frightening creature's nose.

**TTFN and R&R!**

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_translation notes:_

_none_


	64. But Teachers Have it Worse

**Remember the Name**

A _Naruto _x _Harry Potter_ Crossover

By

EvilFuzzy9

_"__These places, these monuments of hardship, suffering and sacrifice - they are not a curse. They are a gift. Because only in surviving in them do we learn who we truly are__.__"_

- Andreus, Bay12 forums

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**A/N: Some of the content in this chapter, about five paragraphs in, for example, is taken directly from Chapter Eleven of OoTP, _The Sorting Hat's New Song_. This includes some of the dialogue. It has also been modified in places, though.**

**Other than that, on the matter of the length of time it took me to get this chapter out, I blame three things: _Gintama_, Writing dot com interactives, and _The Stronghold Collection_. The first because it is like crack, the second because they eat up my writing energy, and the third because it was a bargain deal.**

**On an unrelated note, I've recently discovered that I can bold, underline, or italicize text in Open Office using just keystrokes.**

**... yes, that actually _was_ a big discovery for me... **

* * *

Time passed quickly, and before the staff knew it evening had come. The Hogwarts Express arrived, brakes screeching in protest as well over a dozen tons of iron and steel came to a gradual halt in the Hogsmeade station. Thin wisps of smoke billowed from the stack of the scarlet locomotive as the last remnants of the fires fueling its forward motion died out.

The shrill whistle of steam being let off pierced the air of the sleepy wizarding village of Hogsmeade as the frame of this grand old engine jerked forward one last time before stopping. There was a moment of silent stillness as those present, both aboard the train and not, briefly recomposed themselves in final preparation for another year of Hogwarts.

Then, as if by magic (and it _was_), all the doors lining the passenger carriages slid open in perfect synchronization. With a great deal of chattering and hubbub, the mass of students began pouring forth from the carriages.

The sky was dark and starless, and above the general commotion of talking students came the deep, gruff, familiar call of "Firs' years over here... firs' years..." as a lantern swung from the massive hand of the half-giant groundskeeper Rubeus Hagrid, whose duty that night, as it had been every year on that day for close to a few decades, was to escort the first year students across the lake in small boats as part of a Hogwarts rite of passage dating back several centuries.

The other students would ride up to the school the short way in horseless carriages (so-called, originally, because thestrals are _not_, technically speaking, _horses_) which would follow a path straight up to the castle, from where they would proceed to the Great Hall, and the opening feast.

The entrance hall was ablaze with torches and echoing with footsteps as the students crossed the flagged stone floor for the double doors to the right, leading to the Great Hall and the start-of-term feast.

The four long House tables in the Great Hall were filling up under the starless black ceiling, which was just like the sky they could glimpse through the high windows. Candles floated in midair all along the tables, illuminating the silvery ghosts who were dotted about the Hall and the faces of the students talking eagerly to one another, exchanging summer news, shouting greetings at friends from other houses, eyeing one another's new haircuts and robes. Harry, among the students walking to their tables, noticed people putting their heads together to whisper as he passed; he grit his teeth and tried to act as though he neither noticed nor cared.

Luna Lovegood, an acquaintance of Ginny's whom Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Neville had met aboard the Hogwarts Express, drifted away from them as they passed the Ravenclaw table. Likewise, the moment they reached Gryffindor's, Ginny was hailed away by some fellow fourth years and left to sit with them. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Neville found seats together about halfway down the table between Nearly Headless Nick, the Gryffindor House ghost, and Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown, the last two of whom gave Harry airy, overly friendly greetings that made him quite sure they had stopped talking about him a split second before.

He had more important things to worry about, however.

"I still can't believe Snape is going to be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts this year..." Harry grumbled mutinously as he scanned the staff table, which had a few more seats than usual. He had been irritable on that subject ever since he found out shortly after his hearing, and had been griping on the subject to anyone who would listen ever since. "Is he even qualified for it?"

"Well, he's supposed to be a very skilled wizard all-around," Hermione said halfheartedly, having repeated this discussion with Harry and the others on several occasions. "And it isn't like Professor Dumbledore would hire someone who wasn't qualified to do their job..."

Harry coughed, and it sounded very much like _Lockheart_. Ron also coughed at the same time, and it sounded remarkably similar to _Trelawney_.

Hermione flushed slightly.

"Okay, so maybe he's made some questionable hiring decisions in the past..." she conceded reluctantly, before being stopped by Neville, who placed a hand on her shoulder and pointed up towards a certain distinctive individual who was sitting at the staff table between Hagrid and Professor Vector.

"Who's that guy in the sunglasses, do you reckon?" he asked the trio, pointing towards the Cloud jōnin Killer Bee, who was dressed in distinctive white and gray wizard sleeveless wizard robes, the tattoo on his shoulder clearly visible. "He looks really scary... Do you suppose he's the new DADA professor...?" he inquired, sounding a little nervous at the prospect.

Harry and Ron grimaced, and Hermione shook her head.

"No," said the bushy-haired young witch. "I don't know quite why he is here..." Not a complete lie, as she really _didn't_. "...but I can say for certain that he _isn't_ the new DADA professor," she finished somewhat tersely.

Neville breathed a sigh of relief. "Really?" he said, "Thank goodness... I'd do badly enough in that subject even _without _such a scary looking teacher."

"Well, it's OWL year," Hermione remarked, "So you'd best try to change that before the examinations."

Ron sighed, looking worn out just at the thought.

"Blimey..." he muttered, "We haven't even started classes yet, and already she's talking about exams... Ugh." He buried his face in his hands. "I'm going to hate this year, I just know it..."

Neville blanched at the thought of OWLs.

"I hope I don't fail all of my OWLs..." he said worriedly. "Gran would have my hide if I did."

"Don't worry," Ron said, his voice slightly muffled from where his face was against the table. "You're at least bound to get an 'O' in Herbology."

"What about the rest of my classes though...?" Neville asked anxiously. "You have a bunch of older brothers who've gone through OWLs, so you must have some idea of what they're like, right?"

Harry glanced toward Ron as well. His friend hadn't been seeming too concerned about their OWLs before, so what was with the sudden change of heart?

Slowly, Ron lifted his head off of the table and turned his head to face the other three. He sighed, head hanging back so that he was looking almost straight up at the Great Hall ceiling.

"'_Hell_'..." he said succinctly. "That's how Bill described it... and Charlie... and even Percy, before... well... every one of them... they all said it was like hell on earth."

Harry frowned. Even _Percy_ had said that...? Then he paused, realizing something.

"Wait, what about the twins?" he asked. "What did _they_ say?"

"_'Hexing that examiner was a terrible idea.'_"

**TTFN and R&R!**

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_translation notes:_

_none_


	65. The Sorting Hat's New Song

**Remember the Name**

A _Naruto _x _Harry Potter_ Crossover

By

EvilFuzzy9

_"__Planets are just places for people to stand on. Planets are just rocks. It takes people to make it a world. You can have as many 'Earths' as you want. I only care about what's inside. Although, you won't find any gold. It's just a bunch of old scarred steel. But to me, that steel is the greatest treasure that could ever be.__"_

- Tatsuma Sakamoto, _Gintama_

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**A/N: Because my updates on this have been a bit irregular lately, I decided to do an extra-length chapter to cover the first day at Hogwarts to its end. Also, this fic accounts for... around twenty percent (20%) of my total archived words of FFN. Considering I have somewhere around sixty-six (66) fics of varying length and quality posted here, that really says something. I don't know _what_ it says, exactly, but it's definitely _something._**

**Also, a _lot_ of the talking in this chapter is borrowed, in whole or in part, from the source material. **

* * *

While Harry and Neville snorted and chuckled at Ron's words, Hermione was curiously examining the staff members seated at the head of the hall – as usual, Trelawney was not present, but pretty much every other teacher and staff member at Hogwarts was there for the start-of-term feast. Most of the faces there were familiar to some extent or other – she recognized Karui and Bee from the few occasions she had seen them at Grimmauld Place, and most of the others were longstanding faculty members – but there was one face in particular which could not place.

One very _unpleasant_ face.

"Who's _that?_" she said sharply, pointing toward the middle of the staff table.

Harry glanced to where she was pointing. The first thing he noticed was Dumbledore, dressed in deep-purple robes and a matching hat, which were decorated with silvery stars that appeared to glint and twinkle identically to their heavenly counterparts. Then Harry noticed the woman next to him, who appeared to be talking into Dumbledore's ear.

He did not recognize her at first, thinking the woman looked rather like an aunt with her squat body and short, curly, mouse-brown hair and her offensively pink manner of attire. But then she turned her head, pausing in talking at Dumbledore to take a sip from her goblet, and Harry saw her pale, toadlike face.

He recognized her immediately, after that.

"It's that Umbridge woman!" he said, highly dismayed to see the unpleasant hag's amphibian profile for a second time.

Hermione frowned slightly, curious at the tone in Harry's voice.

"Who?" she said, not recognizing the name.

"She was at my hearing," Harry hissed, "she works for Fudge!"

"Nice cardigan," Ron said with a smirk, glancing at the woman's wooly, pink monstrosity of a sweater.

Hermione frowned. "She works for Fudge?" she parroted curiously. "What on earth's she doing here, then?"

"Dunno..." Harry replied with a shrug.

Hermione flicked her eyes up and down the staff table, appearing to be taking mental stock of everyone present.

"No," she muttered, a dismayed expression slowly encroaching upon her face, "no, surely not..."

Harry was not sure what Hermione meant by that, though it worried him slightly. He would have asked her for clarification, but that was when he noticed Hagrid approaching the staff table, as wide and tall and hairy as ever. Hagrid's boots were wet, tracking water across the flagstone floor of the Hall as he made his way to his usual seat at the staff table, sitting down next to the muscular, tattooed, sunglasses-wearing black man Harry vaguely recalled as having been at Grimmauld place on a couple of occasions. And shortly after that, McGonagal emerged into the Great Hall, trailing a long line of nervous, scared-looking first years behind her and carrying a stool with an exceedingly frayed and tattered wizard's hat upon it.

The drone of conversation in the Hall faded into silence as McGonagal set the stool down and stepped back. A rip appeared in the brim of the ancient-looking hat, and it started moving like a mouth as the hat began to sing.

"_In times of old when I was new_

_ And Hogwarts barely started_

_ The founders of our noble school_

_ Thought never to be parted:_

_ United by a common goal,_

_ They had the selfsame yearning,_

_ To make the world's best magic school_

_ And pass along their learning..._"

* * *

"_... Oh, know the perils, read the signs,_

_ The warning history shows,_

_ For our Hogwarts is in danger_

_ From external, deadly foes_

_ And we must unite inside her_

_ Or we'll crumble from within_

_ I have told you, I have warned you..._

_ Let the Sorting now begin."_

The hat became motionless once more, and applause broke out throughout the Hall. It was punctured, however, with mutterings and whispers as students exchanged curious remarks with their neighbors on how strange the Sorting Hat's song had been.

Up at the table, one Dolores Umbridge harrumphed in what she probably thought was a girlish manner at the contents of this year's song.

"How _droll,_" she said, her voice dripping fake, syrupy sweetness. "I do not believe the hat ever sang any such songs back when _I_ attended Hogwarts as a student."

"Ah, it is a rare occurrence," Dumbledore remarked, "but the Sorting Hat has been known, in the past, to give such warnings whenever it sensed that times of trouble were upon the school."

Umbridge hummed dismissively, clearly not putting any store by Dumbledore's words.

"If you say so, Headmaster," she remarked in a sickly sweet tone of voice.

Karui, sitting a few seats down the table, fought back the urge to roll her eyes or pretend to gag. As a technical member of the staff, she knew what Umbridge's position was, and thus also knew that it would be a terrible idea for her to get on the woman's bad side before the year had hardly even started. It was difficult, though, to put up with that condescending toad.

The Ancient Runes professor, Bathsheda Babbling, who was sitting next to Karui, gave the girl a wry grin in commiseration. The two had come to something of a working relationship, as Professor Babbling's expertise with Ancient Runes was most helpful for Karui in deciphering the purposes of some of the older, more peculiar wards. They did not say anything, however, as at that moment the Hall fell into silence, Professor McGonagall reining in the students with nothing more than a Look.

Unfurling a long roll of parchment, the stern Transfiguration professor called out the name, "Abercrombie, Euan," and the Sorting began.

* * *

After the Sorting Ceremony was over, and after everyone had eaten their fill of the sumptuous start of the year feast, Dumbledore got to his feet. The growing chatter of students idly conversing with one another about various things was immediately silenced as all eyes and ears turned towards the venerable, aged Headmaster.

"Well, now that we are all digesting another magnificent feast," said Dumbledore merrily, eyes twinkling as he cast his gaze over the students seated at the four long tables of the four Hogwarts Houses, "I beg a few moments of your attention for the usual start-of-term notices."

Everyone, from green first years to veteran sevenths, paid attention to the Headmaster as he spoke. No students, not even the Weasley twins, would have the gall to interrupt _the _Albus Dumbledore while he was talking. The man simply commanded attention, that way. He was soft and eccentric, in the way he spoke and looked, but there was strength and steel beneath the surface.

No matter what he might claim to the contrary, Dumbledore was a born leader. He had a soul that drew others to himself, a presence that garnered the respect and loyalty of those around him. It was a rare talent indeed, to be able to so easily rein in such a large number of children and teenagers without so much as a single sharp word, but beneath the geniality and seeming borderline senility was the disposition of a king.

Still, disregarding that monologue, Dumbledore continued to speak. "First years ought to know that the forest in the grounds is out of bounds to students — and a few of our older students ought to know that by now too." (Harry, Ron, and Hermione exchanged smirks.)

"Mr. Filch, the caretaker," Dumbledore carried on, "has asked me, for what he tells me is the four hundred and sixty-second time, to remind you all that magic is not permitted in corridors between classes, nor are a number of other things, all of which can be checked on the extensive list now fastened to Mr. Filch's office door.

"Now we have had quite a few changes in staffing this year. Firstly, we are pleased to welcome back Professor Slughorn, who will be taking over the teaching of Potions for Professor Snape, who will in turn now be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts—" There was nearly a complete uproar at this from stunned students, but a harsh look from McGonagall stifled the protests (or celebrations, in the case of the Slytherin table) of the students nearly before they could even begin. "Additionally, our Care of Magical Creatures professor will be joined by Assistant Professor Kirabii, who has come here from his homeland to study the magical creatures native to Britain," he said, using the nearly-transparent alias Bee had come up with for himself, causing the man in question to nod his head and lazily wave a hand in acknowledgement. "Lastly, our staff even has two new positions: the Hogwarts High Inquisitor – whose duty it is to make certain that everything at our fine school is up to the no doubt impeccable high standards of the Ministry of Magic – which will be filled by Madam Umbridge—" (The toadlike woman smiled and waved sweetly at the students, the simple action somehow managing to seem sickeningly condescending coming from her.) "—and the Chief Warden – who is in charge of inspecting and maintaining the castle wards to ensure a safe, happy experience for the students – which will be filled by Ms. Karui."

He gestured towards a slender, young redhead with dark skin, who was dressed in somewhat drab, gray witches robes. She stood up and bowed to the students.

"_Y-Yoroshiku onegaishimasu,_" she said quietly, before swiftly pulling up out of her bow and sitting back down stiffly, looking a little anxious over being at the center of attention of so many people.

There was a round of polite but fairly unenthusiastic applause from the students, and a few low mutters about misleading job titles. Harry was a little surprised at how young Karui was – she couldn't have been any older than sixteen! – but a look from Ron and Hermione silenced any questions he might have voiced. Apparently they knew something about her that Harry didn't.

Once the murmurs died down, Dumbledore continued. "Tryouts for the House Quidditch teams will take place on the—"

He suddenly stopped, and nobody knew why until they heard a "_Hem, hem,_" from Umbridge and saw that the woman had stood up. Apparently, she intended to make a speech.

Dumbledore looked surprised for a second, but then he sat down and turned his attention to Umbridge as though this was exactly how he had planned things to go. Other staff members were more visibly surprised, though, and many of the students were smirking; obviously, this woman did not know how things worked at Hogwarts, if she was so gauche as to interrupt Dumbledore when no other new teacher had ever done so before in the memory of any of the students.

"Thank you, Headmaster," Madam Umbridge simpered, "for those kind words of welcome."

She then gave another throat-clearing cough ("_Hem, hem,_") before continuing. "Well, it is lovely to back at Hogwarts, I must say!" She smiled, revealing very pointed teeth. "And to see such happy little faces looking back at me!"

Killer Bee cocked an eyebrow at the sudden surge of weak killing intent he felt coming from the four House Tables. It was faint and unfocused, but the sheer unanimous distaste of the students for the thoroughly condescending way this woman – this _outsider_ – was addressing them was nearly palpable. There was not a single happy face among the bunch.

Umbridge, either not noticing or simply not caring about the dark looks the students were giving her, continued speaking. "I am very much looking forward to getting to know you all, and I'm sure we'll be very good friends!"

This time Karui _did_ gag. It was not faked.

"_Hem, hem,_" Professor Umbridge cleared her throat again before continuing speaking, but this time her voice was less breathy and she sounded much more business-like, her words droned out like she was reciting them from memory.

"The Ministry of Magic has always considered the education of young witches and wizards to be of vital importance. The rare gifts with which you were born may come to nothing if not nurtured and honed by careful instruction. The ancient skills unique to the Wizarding community must be passed down through the generations lest we lose them forever. The treasure trove of magical knowledge amassed by our ancestors must be guarded, replenished, and polished by those who have been called to the noble profession of teaching."

She took a pause here to bow shortly to her fellow staff members, not one of whom reciprocated the gesture. Harry, sitting at the Gryffindor table, noticed Professor McGonagall share a significant glance with Professor Sprout as Umbridge gave another of her increasingly annoying "_Hem, hem,_" coughs and went on with her speech.

"Every headmaster and headmistress of Hogwarts has brought something new to the weighty task of governing this historic school, and that is as it should be, for without progress there will be stagnation and decay. There again, progress for progress's sake must be discouraged, for our tried and tested traditions often require no tinkering. A balance, then, between old and new, between permanence and change, between tradition and innovation..."

It was around this point, when the listeners realized that this was shaping up to be not just a short introduction, but rather a long, long, _long_ speech, that Umbridge lost the attention of most of the students. Not that she appeared to either care or notice. From the woman droned on and on, it seemed obvious that Madam Umbridge was the sort of person who loved to hear the sound of her own voice.

Even as students started lowly murmuring and chatting amongst themselves, completely disregarding the words of the High Inquisitor, she did not hesitate or falter. Umbridge continued to quibble on, taking a very long time to say what in truth amounted to a whole lot of nothing, skillfully equivocating and avoiding saying anything meaningful in a way that only a seasoned politician could. Her speech was four parts meaningless platitudes, three parts convenient half-truths, two parts pure bullshit, and one part honest speech.

Needless to say, only a very small handful of people were able to read between the lines and pick up on what little information the woman gave away.

"...because some changes will be for the better, while others will come, in the fullness of time, to be recognized as errors of judgment. Meanwhile, some old habits will be retained, and rightly so, whereas others, outmoded and outworn, must be abandoned. Let us move forward, then, into a new era of openness, effectiveness, and accountability, intent on preserving what ought to be preserved, perfecting what needs to be perfected, and pruning wherever we find practices that ought to be prohibited."

With that, Umbridge sat down. Dumbledore politely applauded her, and the staff followed his lead, though most of them did so only reluctantly, halfheartedly giving their new colleague one or two claps before stopping. A few students also joined in, but most had long stopped paying attention and were thus caught flat-footed by the end of the speech.

"Thank you very much, Madam Umbridge" said Dumbledore, smiling goodnaturedly as he stood back up, "that was most illuminating. Now — as I was saying, Quidditch tryouts will be held..."

"Yes, it certainly was illuminating," muttered Hermione lowly.

Ron gave the girl a wary look. "You're not telling me you _enjoyed _it?" he said quietly, disbelievingly. "That was the dullest speech I've ever heard, and I grew up with Percy."

"I said illuminating, not enjoyable," said Hermione. "It explained a lot."

"Did it?" said Harry, surprised. "Sounded like a load of waffle to me."

"There was some important stuff hidden in the waffle," Hermione grimly replied.

"Was there?" said Ron blankly. "I couldn't make a lick of sense out of what she said."

"How about 'progress for progress's sake must be discouraged'? How about 'pruning wherever we find practices that ought to be prohibited'?"

Ron scowled. "Well, what does that _mean?_" he asked impatiently.

Hermione grit her teeth, narrowing her eyes whilst unconsciously clenching and unclenching her fists. She appeared to be glaring suspiciously up at Umbridge, where the woman was seated.

"I'll tell you what it means," she said, her words all but hissed through her teeth, "It means the Ministry's interfering at Hogwarts."

**TTFN and R&R!**

* * *

_translation notes:_

"_kirabii" - a more or less direct romanization of Killer Bee's name_

"_yoroshiku onegaishimasu" - a polite phrase of introduction, roughly meaning,"please take good care of me"_


	66. PLEASE DON'T KILL ME

**Remember the Name**

A _Naruto _x _Harry Potter_ Crossover

By

EvilFuzzy9

**A/N: Soooooo... I haven't updated this for a couple of weeks... And I am not currently working on the next chapter... *sheepish* I wish I could promise an update soon, but I've kinda sorta gotten involved in something else. **

**I am currently doing a screenshot Let's Play of _Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King (GBA)_ at Broken Forum, and that has sorta sucked me in.  
**

**_Sorry._  
**

**If you want to check it out, head over to and do a search for__**** One Does Not Simply Walk into Mordor - Let's Play Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King for GBA****, which is the thread title. Can't post the address because _FFN_, so that'll have to do. **  


**And I know how disappointing it is to see a fic update alert in your inbox, only to find out that it's just a glorified author's note/shameless self-promotion, so I make this promise:_ the only two circumstances under which I will post further updates to this story are if a.) it's with an actual, honest to God chapter, or b.) to state that it is dead and buried (and I NEVER do the latter)._  
**

**__So, _yeah. _**

**See you on the other side~**


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